


Inked

by jensenacklesruinedmylife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Romance, Roommates, Tattoos, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:55:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 61,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensenacklesruinedmylife/pseuds/jensenacklesruinedmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>[[THIS STORY IS OFFICIALLY ABANDONED, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK *APOLOGIZES PROFUSELY*]]</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So this post was going around tumblr a while ago:<br/>"what if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves"</p><p>And I thought, well what if when you got a tattoo, your soul mate would have the same tattoo. But you could still mess around and stuff if you wanted to - regardless of if you didn’t have a tattoo yet or if you just had different ones - or you could wait for your soul mate. And you couldn’t go around flashing your tattoo because it’s something private and intimate. And talking about it would be taboo, like talking about your sex life in public.</p><p>THEN SUDDENLY oops I’m thinking of a Destiel College!AU????????</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inked has 18 parts (chapters) so far, BUT I want to know if the AO3 community likes part 1, and then I'll make an update schedule for you all. Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment / ask for my tumblr! <3

Castiel Novak stepped out of the shower and wrapped a white towel around his hips, securing it tightly. He chuckled lightly at himself, remembering that he still didn't have a roommate, so there was really no point in covering up, but he left the towel on anyway. He was glad that the senior dorms didn't have community bathrooms; those were a nightmare. He had shared a room with his brother Gabe last year, which was a terrible idea. Gabe used to find it  _absolutely hilarious_ to take Castiel's towel while he was in the shower, forcing him to run through the dorm hallway stark naked. One time, Gabriel was insane enough to lock the bedroom door on the same day their female RA was doing room checks, and well... Castiel would never forgive his brother for that one. 

Castiel ran his hands through his short black hair to make sure he didn't miss any shampoo anywhere. It was the first day of his senior year, and he wanted to do it right. He looked at himself in the mirror. He wouldn't call himself extremely attractive or anything, but he was nice looking. When he turned to the side, though, he noticed something - was that... _ink?_ He spun around quickly, looking over his shoulder, and gasped. Two large wings, one on each side of his back, were drawn into his skin. Castiel stared blankly at the mirror.  _Whoa,_ he thought. He finally had his tattoo. He had, of course, been waiting for this to happen, but he couldn't help but be a little disappointed. He was hoping it would be a smaller one, like his sister Anna's. She had a flame on her hip. He had never seen it, though. She had been too embarrassed to show him. 

Castiel turned back around and sighed. Looks like his summer fling wasn't meant to be with him forever after all, as he suspected.  _What was her name again? Molly...? Meg! That's it._  She had the number 8 written on the back of her neck. Or was in an infinity symbol? He couldn't remember. He wasn't exactly sober when she showed him, too interested in getting more physical and less verbal. Well, that was over now. He had promised himself that once his tattoo appeared, he would stop sleeping around. Not that he was a whore or anything, he just enjoyed feeling wanted - male, female, didn't matter. 

Glancing at his watch, Castiel cursed. He had ten minutes to get to class.  __ _Great,_ he thought aloud as he ran out of the bathroom and scrambled to throw on something decent. A white polo and khaki pants would have to do. He checked the schedule he had taped onto the wall next to his bed and grabbed his biology book, a notebook, and stuck a pen behind his ear. He quickly slid his feet into his new Sperry's, took his wallet off his desk, and ran out the door, hair still wet.  __ _Now I'm going to walk in late to my first class, with sex hair._ __ _Perfect._  

~

Unfortunately for Castiel, his biology lab was a small class, so when he arrived late, his professor already knew his name.

“And you must be Castiel! How nice of you to join us.” Said his professor, purposely trying to embarrass him, he could tell. He had a thick Scottish accent, and wore all black.

Castiel apologized quietly and rushed to the nearest empty seat. It was near the back of the classroom, next to an unfamiliar face. He wouldn’t have cared at all if the stranger hadn’t given him a onceover the second he sat down. Castiel let out a huff, annoyed, and looked at him questioningly. He was not in the mood for some new kid’s bullshit on the first day. The other student simply smirked and whispered, “Nice sex hair.”

Before Castiel could retort, the professor began to speak.

“Now that we’re all here, we can begin introductions. I’m Professor Crowley, and this is the lab section of your 400 level biology class. Lectures will be on Thursday’s, at the same time – 10am. Um, we’ll go around the room, and you can tell us your name, your major, and something about yourself.”

Half of the class let out a groan. Professor Crowley smiled.

“Oh, come on, you’re all seniors in here, right? You’ve done this a million times, quit your complaining. One at a time now,” he pointed at a blond girl with glasses in the first row, “you can start us off.”

Most students introduced themselves as biology majors, or pre-med.

When it was his turn, he kept it simple. “Uh, hi, I’m Castiel Novak. I’m also a bio major, um. Can’t wait to graduate!” That last comment got him a few laughs. _Phew._ “That’s pretty much it.”

Professor Crowley then nodded to the student sitting next to Castiel. He couldn’t wait to hear what this guy had to say about himself. _Probably some delinquent,_ he thought, taking in his appearance. He was average height, average build, and had short dark hair. He wore jeans, boots, and a dark green jacket. _Who wears a jacket in the summer?_ It wasn’t until the student took the pen he was chewing on out from between his lips that Castiel noticed his mouth. _Wow._ He tried his best not to stare as he spoke.

“The name’s Dean Winchester, like the rifle,” he began, cockily. “I’m an engineering major.” _Engineer? Odd._ “I just transferred here,” _Oh, transfer student._ “– my family moves around a lot. Haven’t even moved in yet, actually.” Dean chuckled. “Kinda hopin’ to stick around for a while, though. The girls are smokin’.” He winked at the blond in the front row, making her blush furiously. Castiel wasn’t sure if she had fallen for Dean’s bad boy looks or his southern drawl, but made a face that said _are you fucking kidding me?_ at her, anyway. She was too busy giggling to notice. “The guys aren’t so bad, either,” Dean admitted openly, giving Castiel a quick side glance.

Castiel pretended he didn’t see it.

The class laughed. Professor Crowley raised his eyebrows and shook his head, but didn’t comment. He started writing things on the board. “To keep things simple, the person sitting next to you is your lab partner. Get to know them well; you’ll be responsible for half of each other’s grades. Go on – mingle.”

That statement earned the professor another groan. Castiel swore he was grinning at the sound. He must have been making a face again because Dean’s voice startled him.

“What?” He asked. “Don’t like this teacher?”

“No, I –.” Castiel sighed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be all buddy-buddy with this Dean character. But, what the hell? No harm in having a conversation or two. “He seems like an asshole.”

Dean laughed. “Damn straight. I like it.”

“You do?” Castiel asked, genuinely confused.

“Hell yeah. Asshole teachers let shit slide, ya know? Like when you walked in late today. That’s probably as bad as it’ll get – he’ll sass you, then move on.” Dean was smirking, again. “He didn’t even mention your sex hair.”

Castiel coughed. “I didn’t have a chance to dry my hair this morning, that’s _all.”_ Desperate to change the subject, he cleared his throat and put out his hand. “Well, Dean, it’s nice to meet you.”

Dean turned toward him, took his hand and shook it. “You, too. Castiel, was it? Castiel. Cas. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”

Castiel flinched subtly at the nickname. Wasn’t it a bit too early for that? He pulled his hand out of Dean’s grip, but not before noticing the bracelet on his wrist and the ring on his finger – right hand, not married. _Why is that even relevant?_ He wondered if he had gotten his tattoo yet. _Why is THAT relevant?_  “Uh, yeah. I think so, as well.”

Dean tapped his pen on the desk, and then put it back in his mouth. Castiel tried not to roll his eyes at him, afraid they’d get stuck if he actually did. “Should we exchange numbers or something?”

Castiel turned his head in surprise. _Is this guy seriously asking for my number?_

“You know, since we’re lab partners. I assume we’ll have to do some work together, outside of class, so.”

 _Oh._ “Oh, yes. Um, here –.” Castiel pulled out his phone and handed it to Dean to type in his number. Dean took it, seeming quite pleased with himself. After a few seconds, a muffled Led Zepplin began playing somewhere close by. Dean handed Castiel back his phone and rummaged through his own bag, pulling out his phone.

“Called myself. Now I’ve got your number, too.” He smiled, and Castiel was glad to hear Professor Crowley dismiss class because _god damn that mouth._

“Guess I’ll see ya around, Cas.” Dean said, shrugging his bag over his shoulder and leaving the classroom.

Cas nodded, making a sound that resembled a response before gathering his things and leaving a moment later. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ he thought. Why was he acting all girly? _Do I actually have a crush on – no. No way, he just has a pretty mouth,_ Castiel reasoned before pushing the subject to the back of his mind. He had some time to kill before his next class, and needed to get the right books anyway, so he decided to go back to his room. Maybe he could play some Tetris – that always helped him relax. But when he got to his floor, he could see that the door to his bedroom was wide open. _What the – ?_ Castiel sped up, wondering what was going on. What he saw made his mouth drop.

There, in the middle of his room, was Dean Winchester.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2, by popular demand! Thank you again for reading! Let me know what you think; I might start posting a chapter every other day. (:

A shirtless, sweaty Dean Winchester was standing in the room, struggling to get a flat screen television on top of his dresser. After getting over the initial shock of seeing his lab partner in his bedroom, _shirtless,_ it registered to Castiel that Dean was his roommate. He quickly set his things on his desk by the door and walked over to help Dean with the TV, lifting the other side up and back, and sliding the flat screen into place.

“Thanks, man – Cas!” exclaimed Dean. “ _You’re_ my roommate? Who woulda thunk!” He gave Castiel what he assumed was supposed to be a friendly slap on the back, but since he just got his tattoo, it was a little sore. He had forgotten all about it until then.

He cringed. Dean noticed.        

“Whoa, sorry dude, did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I just –.” Castiel trailed off. He _just_ met this guy. It would be weird to talk about his tattoo. He tried to come up with an excuse, but Dean Winchester was a quick thinker. Too quick.

“Oh.” Dean suddenly ginned. “Oh, shit, did you just get your –?”

 _Well, fuck._ “Uh, yeah. But I mean, it’s fine. Really.” He walked toward the other side of the room and sat on his bed, reaching for the pile of books on the floor, sorting them and finding the one’s he needed. Since Dean was facing away from him, Castiel could see that Dean didn’t have a tattoo yet, or at least not on his back. Dean Winchester’s back was tanned and toned, like the back of someone who did a lot of heavy lifting. Castiel tried to ignore the not-so-clean thoughts that threatened to arise in his mind. He opened his mouth to ask Dean if he had a tattoo himself, but banished the idea immediately, looking back down at his books. _That’s not something you ask someone you JUST met, you idiot._

Apparently, Dean Winchester had no such reservations. “What’s it of?” he asked, still grinning. “Your tattoo, I mean. It must be pretty big.”

Castiel’s head snapped up. _Why would I tell you that?_ He must have thought that out loud, because Dean put his hands up in defense.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me, I just wanted to see if you actually would,” he said, taking dark blue bed sheets out of a box and placing them on his pillow. “Some folks are kinky like that.” He looked back at Castiel, who was still watching him.

 _There’s that damn smirk again._ Castiel looked away. “Well, I’m not one of those _folks.”_ He found the books he needed for his next two classes and got up to stuff them into the bag hanging from his desk chair. “I’ve got class, I’ll uh, see you later.”

He didn’t have class for another half hour, but Castiel could not stand being in the same room as a shirtless Dean Winchester and his stupidly _gorgeous mouth_ for another minute. It made him…nervous? _Dammit._ Dean was definitely attractive, but so were a lot of Castiel’s friends. _What’s so special about him?_ He went down the stairs and headed for the library. _Am I seriously hiding from my roommate?_ He shook his head. This was not good. He’d have to deal with Dean sooner or later.

He decided on later.

~

Back in the room, Dean rolled his eyes. That Cas kid was a weird one. _Oh well,_ Dean thought. _At least he’s cute._

After arranging his things and making his bed, took out his wallet and pulled out a picture of him and his brother Sam, a freshman this year, and another of him and his mother, who had died in a fire when he was four.

“Hey, mom,” he said quietly, leaning her photo against the lamp on his desk. He put the picture of Sam next to it, and smiled. They were young in the picture – Sam hadn’t grown the size of a tree yet, so Dean was still taller than him. He wondered how he was doing on his first day of college. _Bet he’s so nervous he’s already wet himself,_ Dean thought, snickering. He pulled out his phone and sent Sam a text: Word of advice, Sammy - Never leave your towel unattended in those shitty community bathrooms.

Sam texted back a minute later: Yeah, thanks jerk, I could have used that advice an hour ago :(

Dean almost doubled over from the force of his laughter. _Already? HA! Poor bastard._ He couldn’t think of anything to say that would make his brother feel better, so he put his phone on his desk and headed for the bathroom to take a shower.

Dean turned the faucet to hot and let the water hit his smooth skin. He thought about his schedule, wondered where could get pie – his favorite food, and then his mind wandered to the subject of _Castiel._ He really was pretty cute, and that _hair,_ damn. He wondered if Cas’s hair always made him look like he had just been thoroughly and wonderfully fucked. _I’ll have to ask him that,_ Dean thought, snickering. He imagined what it would feel like to run his fingers through those stunning black locks, curling his fingers around a few strands and _pulling_ with just enough pressure to – whoa, was that a moan? Did he just _moan?_ _Oh, Christ._ Dean rinsed off and practically jumped out of the shower, grabbing his towel and drying himself off. He ignored the fact that he had been turned on by the mere thought of his roommate’s hair and got dressed.

~

Dean pulled on a green crew neck and some jeans, reasoning that it was actually still too warm for a jacket. _This heat is gonna get real old, real quick,_ he thought. Instead of his boots, he grabbed some tennis shoes and put them on before finding his keys and heading out the door. He had decided to bring his 67’ Impala to campus with him, unable to part with his most prized possession. Sam was excited about that, thinking he would be able to borrow it, but Dean was planning on driving his baby to parties and screwing hot girls, or guys, in the back seat.

Smiling, Dean got to his car and turned his key into the lock to open the driver side door. When he put the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. “Missed you, too, baby,” Dean said aloud, turning on the radio to a classic rock station. He rolled down his windows and pulled out of the dorm parking lot, careful not to hit anyone. He was on his way to work – college was NOT cheap, and his family wasn’t the wealthiest bunch. He had found an opening at a music place downtown, only a 15 minute drive from campus, so he gladly accepted the job. His shift began at 1, and it was currently half past noon, so he’d definitely be on time. _Awesome._  

When he arrived, he parallel parked across the street and walked toward the music shop after checking to make sure his baby was locked. B’s Tracks, the store was called, the letter B stood for Balthazar, the owner. Dean though that was stupid, but “B” was paying him, so he couldn’t care less about the name of the shop. The bells attached to the door sounded as Dean walked inside. The shop was small and cozy, with a few chairs and table set up in the corners, each with headphones available for use. There were racks against the walls filled with CD’s, a long table ran down the center of the store, on top of them were boxes filled with vinyls. Along the back wall were cassette tapes, Dean’s favorite.

Balthazar walked out of the backroom to greet whoever had just entered the shop. When he saw Dean, he smiled wide. “Well hello there! You’re a little early,” he exclaimed, trapping Dean in a hug. Dean tried to hide how uncomfortable he was and patted the taller man on the back.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean managed to squirm his way out of the hug. “I finished moving in and decided to head on over. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Oh, no, of course not! Shows me that you’re gonna be a great employee!” Balthazar patted him on the shoulder before walking behind the cashier counter and motioning for Dean to follow him. He wore a grey v-neck, jeans so tight Dean himself felt uncomfortable, and dress shoes. His British accent made him sound cool, so Dean didn’t mind listening to him speak.

“Do you know how to use a register?” Balthazar asked.

“Yeah, I worked at a fast food place in high school, so I know the basics.”

Balthazar looked amused. “Good. Do you know how to use a gun?”

At this, Dean did a double take. _A gun?_ “I uh, well I’ve been shooting before –.”

“So you can load and unload, point and shoot?”

Dean was a little shocked. Why would he need to know how to use a gun? This was a music store! He wasn’t sure if he should mention that his father taught him and his little brother how to shoot a gun before they could long divide, but before he could say anything, Balthazar spoke up again.

“Don’t freak, I’ve got a gun filled with blanks in the drawer beneath the counter. You know, to scare off any potential thieves. As long as you look like you know what you’re doing, I think we’ll be fine.”

Dean let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, right, yeah! Sure thing, Balthazar.”

“Please, call me B. It’s much simpler, and you’re sure to pronounce it correctly.” Baltha – B, winked. Dean didn’t know what to think of it, so he busied himself with stuffing his keys into his pocket. The Brit spoke up again before walking back into the storage room, “Feel free to roam about the shop if no one’s buying things. We usually get students from the university coming here for a quiet place to study. I don’t mind if you bring school work, either.” Then, in a sing-song voice, he added, “As long as the cus-tom-ers aren’t com-plain-ing, neither am I.”

Dean shook his head, chuckling. This guy was a little odd, but he liked him. He took a deep breath and looked around, placing his hands on the counter. He could get used to working here. It was only a part time job, anyway. Four days a week, four hours a day. Today was Tuesday, and he worked Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday. The shop was closed on Sunday’s. Since the store was currently empty, Dean thought he’d have a look at the tape collection.

He was poking around the ACDC tapes when Balthazar walked out of the storage room again. “Oh, Dean, I forgot to mention – you can always change the music playing on the speakers if you’d like. The stereo is in the corner,” B pointed to the small stereo next to the backroom door.

“Awesome, thanks!” said Dean, pleased with this new information.

Balthazar walked toward the door. “I’ve got a few appointments to get to, but I’m sure you can handle things while I’m out. I’ll be back before your shift ends at um –?”

“Five,” replied Dean.

“Right, yes, five o’clock.” B opened the door to leave, then quickly stuck his head back inside. “Dean?”

“Yeah, B?”

“Last thing, I promise: If my cousin comes in looking for me, tell him to call me. He always asks me to read over his English papers or if he can borrow my Jaguar or something.”

“You drive a Jaguar?” Dean asked, intrigued. He loved his Chevy, but he could appreciate a well-made vehicle.

“Ah, yes, just bought it. I call it my silver bullet,” he beamed.

Dean laughed. “So, what’s this cousin of yours look like?”

“Oh, he’s easy to spot. He’s a bit awkward, doesn’t talk much. He’s got messy black hair and always _insists_ on wearing those atrocious khaki pants with some sort of dress shirt. No clue why, but that’s Cassie for ya.”

Dean froze. Khaki pants? Messy hair? _Cassie?_

“Anyway, just tell him I went out to run a few errands and he can call if he really needs something. Thanks again, Dean!”

And with that, Balthazar was gone, and Dean was alone in the shop, praying to every god that B did _not_ mean Castiel. Not that he didn’t like Cas, it’s just that he liked to keep his school and work life separate, but if his roommate and lab partner was also his boss’s _cousin?_ Things were bound to get complicated, and Dean _hated_ complicated. He quickly put back the tapes he was holding and walked to the register, looking for some sort of business card or – _there!_ A little pile of cards sat in one of the drawers behind the counter. They were purple, and read “B’s Tracks” in light grey lettering. There was a phone number, an address, and – _Crap._

Owner: Balthazar Novak.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Castiel got back from his classes, it was almost 5pm. He breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the door to find his dorm room empty. _Wonder where Dean is._ He set his bag down on his desk chair and pulled out his phone. _Maybe I should text him?_ Castiel shook his head. _Why should I care where his is?_ He let out an audible groan before collapsing face first onto his bed. Before long, Castiel was fast asleep.

Soon after that, Dean came back to their room.

Castiel was woken up by a loud vibration next to his head – his phone, he would soon realize – and the sound of cackling laughter from the other side of the room – Dean, he realized immediately. Startled and a little pissed off, Castiel threw his phone to the ground. It landed with a crack on the tile floor, but somehow remained intact. When he picked it up again, the screen read ‘Dean Winchester calling.’ _Wow. Seriously?!_ “What the fuck was that?” he exclaimed, demanding some kind of explanation from Dean.

Dean could hardly speak between the fits of laughter erupting from his throat. “Dude, dude – AHAHA – you should have seen your FACE!”

At this point, Castiel was still confused, and more than a little pissed.

“Oh man, I’m sorry, I just – AHA – I called your phone to see when your ringtone was, but, but I didn’t know it was right next to you, I swear – HAHAHA – I swear I didn’t see it!”

Castiel was utterly incredulous to Dean’s response. Frustrated, he threw his phone in Dean’s general direction before he could stop himself.

Dean swatted it away with his hand as it landed on his mattress. He stopped laughing. “Whoa, what was that for?”

“Are you _really_ this immature?!” Castiel shouted, louder than he meant to. “If you wanted to know what my ringtone was, you could have just _asked,_ maybe?!”

Dean tossed Cas’s phone back to him. “Alright, alright,” he said, standing up with his hands out in defense, for the second time today, “it was just a stupid prank, no big deal, Cas.”

 _No big deal? Really?_ Castiel got up, stuffed his phone in his pocket, and began walking towards the door. “If you’re going to act like a nine year old all year, warn me now so I can sign up for a new room.” He was being mildly sarcastic, but the look on Dean’s face told Castiel that Dean didn’t catch that. He really didn’t know why he was so irritated. Gabriel pulled stunts like that all the time when they were home. Maybe it was because he had just met Dean? _Maybe it’s because I’m so sexually frustrated I can hardly think._ Before he reached the door, Dean was there, slamming his hand on the door to keep it shut, leaving Castiel trapped between it and Dean’s body. Castiel turned around angrily, but was met with the unanticipated closeness of Dean Winchester’s face to his own. His breath hitched.

“Cas, dude, come on, please,” Dean began, and then, impossibly softer, “please, don’t walk out on me.”

~

Suddenly aware of his own voice, Dean cleared his throat and took a step backward, letting his hand drop. He hadn’t meant to sound so frail, but he had a bad history when it came to keeping friends, and a habit of fucking up every good thing that happened to him. Cas seemed like a good thing, and he couldn’t lose another chance at friendship – not after only one day. Plus, that would make work pretty awkward, assuming Cas would tell his cousin Balthazar about how crappy Dean was as a roommate.

Cas’s face had lit up in surprise, Dean guessed, and he turned his head at an angle, cobalt blue eyes staring Dean down. Dean hadn’t noticed Castiel’s eyes until that moment. The blue was so endless, so beautiful, so _pure._ Afraid he would lose himself in them, he looked away and cleared his throat again. “I, um –.”

Cas cut him off. “I’m not walking out on you, Dean.”

Dean looked up again, Castiel’s blue eyes threatening to pull him under, filled with something he couldn’t place – _honesty? Concern?_ “You’re not?”

“No, you just – ,” Cas shifted his weight from on foot to the other, sighing. “What you did was stupid and it pissed me off, so I needed some space. I didn’t want to fight.”

“Oh.” Dean nodded. “Yeah, that was a pretty shitty move on my part –.”

“Damn right, it was.”

Dean’s face crumpled into something that resembled offence, and he swore he saw Cas’s lip quirk up in satisfaction. Dean couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. _Son of a bitch._

“Fine, let me make it up to you, okay? I’ll buy us dinner tonight. Campus food sucks, anyway.”

Cas pondered the idea for a few seconds, then nodded. “Sounds good.” He walked to his desk and grabbed his wallet. “I like Italian.”

When Dean realized that Cas was actually ready to leave right that minute, he almost scrambled ( _Winchesters NEVER scramble)_ to throw on a jacket ( _damn the heat)_ and pick up his keys from his bed. “Italian it is.” He opened the door and let Cas walk out first, moving his arm in a semicircular motion, overdoing it so it was more funny and less weird. Castiel ignored the gesture and headed for the stairs.

“Aw, come on, Cas, stairs?” Dean complained as he locked their door.

“It’s good for you, assbutt. Besides, elevators make things awkward.”

 _Who you callin’ assbutt?_ Dean was about to respond, but simply shrugged in agreement instead. When they got to the car, he heard Cas gasp. He grinned.

“Like her?” he asked.

“Her?”

“Yes, her,” Dean replied, giving the Impala’s hood a tap. “Ain’t she a beauty?”

“It’s… _She_ is a very nice car, yes. Classic.” Cas responded, amused.

“Exactly! Finally, someone who understands.”  Dean was pulling open the door for Cas before he realized what he was doing.

“Uh, Dean, I am fully capable of opening my own door, you know.” Cas’s eyebrows were raised, and Dean was suddenly overrun with embarrassment.

 _He’s gonna think I’m taking him on a date!_ Dean thought, and racked his brain for a way to save his pride. He smirked. “My mother always told me to open doors for little ladies,” Dean said, teasing.

He could _feel_ Castiel resisting the urge to hit him. “Well, in that case, I’m going to need to have a little chat with your mother on who constitutes as a little lady.”

“My mother’s dead.”

The words were out of Dean’s mouth before he could stuff them back in. _Damn it!_ Now Cas was staring at him like a wounded puppy.

“Oh, Dean, I’m – I’m so sor-.”

“I was really young, it’s okay. I don’t know why I brought it up, I’m sorry,” Dean apologized, desperate to change the subject. “Please, just get in the car. Aren’t you starving? I’m starving.”

Cas must have caught on to Dean’s desperation, because he climbed into the passenger seat without a fight. Dean walked around the hood to get to the driver’s seat, turned his keys in the ignition, and shifted the car into drive. As he was pulling onto the main road, Castiel spoke up.

“Where are we headed?”

“I know a great place downtown, designed to look like a diner from back in the day. The pizza is delicious and the pasta is divine, but the pie is from heaven itself.” Dean was beaming. It had been days since he’d had some quality pie.

“You like pie?” Cas asked, curious.

“It’s my absolute favorite. I’m tellin’ you right now, if you ever want to bribe me? Forget money – use pie.”

That got a laugh out of Cas. Dean smiled at the sound.

“I’m a big fan of burgers,” said Cas, “but there’s just something about well-made pasta. Mmm. Gotta have it.”

“Burgers are pretty great,” Dean agreed, pulling into the diner parking lot. “I think you’ll really like this place. I’ve got an old friend who works the register; he can get us a discount.” He turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. Thankfully, so did Cas, so he didn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of opening the car door for him twice.

~

They walked to the front doors of the small building, Dean once again holding the door open for his roommate, while Castiel thanked him quietly. _Why is he treating me like a girl?_ Cas wanted to ask, but decided to spare Dean the awkwardness. He looked around the diner. It really was quite nice – rounded ceiling, wooden booths, and soft lighting. When they got to the counter, Dean was greeted by someone Cas assumed was the friend Dean had been talking about earlier.

“Aye, Benn-ay!’’ Dean shouted, giving the other man a bear hug. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been great! This job takes up all my time, but what the hell, as long as it pays, right?”

“I hear ya, man, I hear ya,” Dean laughed, then turned and reached for Cas, who was standing gingerly behind him. Cas didn’t want to interrupt the bro-fest and had moved out of the way, but Dean had remembered him. He smiled a little.

“Hey, Benny, I want you to meet Cas,” Dean said, practically shoving Cas into Benny. Benny put a hand out. Cas shook it, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Hello,” he said simply. _Why am I acting so weird?_

“Well hey there, nice to meet you,” Benny replied. He had a strong grip, a charming southern accent, and soft blue eyes that glanced at Dean.

Cas took a step back and looked over to Dean, then back to Benny. _Um._ “What is it?” he asked.  

Benny laughed. “I’m just wondering how Dean here managed to pick someone up after only one day here!”

“Pick…someone up…?” Was Benny implying what he _thought_ he was implying? Dean’s wide eyes and hasty repetition of “No” confirmed it – Benny thought they were together. Like, _together_ together.

“You’ve got it wrong, dude, Cas here is just my roommate! He wanted Italian, so I said, why not? In fact, I’m only friends with you because you can get me a discount,” Dean joked.

Benny shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Then he turned to Cas, “If he gets grabby, just let me know. I have no qualms with kicking his sorry ass out of here.”

“Whoa, now, I am _not_ grabby!” exclaimed Dean.

“And we are NOT together,” Cas added curtly. _Someone_ had to clearthat up.

“’Course you aren’t,” was Benny’s response, and Cas let out yet another sigh. “Well go on and get a booth, someone will come and take your order soon. Go on!” Benny shooed them away and Dean mimicked his hand motions sarcastically. Finally, he and Cas sat down at a booth near the edge of the diner.

Cas cleared his throat. “Well, um. Benny, he’s uh. He’s interesting.”

Dean laughed again. Cas became slightly concerned with how comforting the sound was.

“We met a couple years back, at the school I went to before I came here. When I told him I was moving, his parents had told him he was moving, too. Coincidentally, we moved to the same town!” Dean shook his head, smile on his lips. _Those lips._ “Shit’s crazy, but I’m not complaining.”

Cas was still staring at Dean’s mouth when a waitress came over to take their order. When Dean licked his lips, Cas looked up (to keep himself from losing his mind – _it’s just a pretty mouth, he’s just got a pretty mouth...)_ to see what had practically caused his roommate to start drooling. When he turned to see who their waitress was, Castiel was astounded.

Walking towards their table, hair dyed bright red and wearing a skirt so short he thought it must be child-sized, was his little sister.

“Anna!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! Like the new characters? Let me know what you think! (:


	4. Chapter 4

Anna almost tripped in surprise of seeing her older brother. She caught herself and made her way to the table. Castiel could not believe his eyes.

“Anna,” he said again, serious. _Why is she working here? Doesn’t she have AP study sessions on weeknights?_

Anna groaned. “Yes, Castiel?”

Before Castiel could lay into her (and boy was he ready to lay into her good), Dean spoke up.

“Wait, wait, wait, do you guys know each other?”

“No –.” Anna began, but Castiel cut her off.

“She’s my sister.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, surprised. “You didn’t say you had a sister…” he trailed off, looking at Anna with elevator eyes. Castiel wanted to hit him for the second time that evening.

“Yes, well, I didn’t think it was relevant seeing as we just met – hello!?”

Dean and Anna stopped giving each other looks (having eye sex, basically) and turned their heads back to Castiel.

He looked at Dean, then at Anna, then directed his gaze back to Dean and rolled his eyes. “She’s seventeen.”

When he heard this, Dean dropped the smirk he’d been wearing on that mouth of his, shifting his position to sit up straighter. “She’s _what?_ ” He looked to Anna. “You’re _what?_ "

Anna had a look of scorn on her face, directed at Castiel. She placed her hands on her hips. “Wow, Cassie, you’re the actual freakin’ worst.” He couldn’t help but feel satisfied at the reaction. He was her big brother – it was his job to piss her off, was it not? It was all out of love. _Not jealousy, NOT jealousy._

“Anna, he’s what, 21? You’re 21, right?” Castiel asked Dean, who nodded as he continued. “Exactly. You’re in high school, Anna. You’re not even supposed to have a job! Does Dad know about this?”

Anna scoffed. “Dad thinks I’m studying with a friend. I’m only working part-time, jeez. I need the money!”

“To do what?” Castiel was having a hard time accepting that Anna would be so disobedient. Those clothes? That hair? Telling lies? _Letting random men hit on her?_

“To go out, of course!” she exclaimed. “I’ll be 18 soon, which means I will legally be able to go almost wherever I want. Gabe is gonna let me borrow his car as long as I pay for the gas –.”

Cas put a hand up and shook his head. “ _Gabriel_ knows about this?”

“Oh come on, Castiel, who do you think helped me dye my hair?”

Castiel thought about this for a moment, deciding that he should have guessed that part. Gabriel was so in the know about fashion and style, it was a bit alarming. “Okay, okay, but, why?”

Anna sighed, letting her arms droop down at her sides. “I’m tired of Dad treating me like a baby. It’s like he won’t let me grow up! So, I’ve taken matters into my own hands. Don’t worry, I’m not drinking or sleeping around or anything.” She made a fist with her hands and rested her chin on it. “I just wanna have fun.” She batter her eyelashes at Castiel, fake smile plastered on just right, and Castiel groaned.

“Fine. Whatever.” He put his hands up in defeat, then slammed them down on the table, startling Dean out of the trance he had been in.

“Um… Can we get our pasta now?” he asked, looking between the two siblings.

Anna turned toward Dean, pen and pad at the ready. “Right, so what would you like?”

“Pepperoni pizza, please. And a Sprite. Oh! And some pie. Gotta have my pie.”

Anna scribbled something down, and then turned to Castiel. “And you’ll have spaghetti and meat balls, with water, because you are the epitome of boring.” She slammed the notepad shut and placed it in her apron as she walked away. Castiel wasn’t surprised that she knew what he’d order. He was a simple man. Plus, they _did_ live together for 14 years.

Suddenly, Dean laughed. “You Novak’s are an odd bunch.”

“Well you’ve only met two of us,” Cas responded, shrugging.

“Three.”

Castiel’s head snapped up. _Did he just say…?_ “Three? What do you mean three?” Cas imagined who else Dean could have met. He couldn’t have met Gabriel yet. He was a sophomore, and lived on the opposite side of campus.

Dean looked nervous. “I, uh. I met B. Balthazar? I work at um, B’s Tracks.”

“You work at Balthazar’s shop?” Castiel couldn’t believe it. The one place he was sure he would never find anyone he knew, and the last place he would want anyone he knew to go. Balthazar liked to tell embarrassing stories and, well, Castiel provided him with a lot of those. He bit his lip. “Did he tell you anything about me? Because I swear, that one time at the lake, I didn’t think anyone could see me –.”

“Whoa, whoa, he only mentioned you once, dude. Said you like to come around and ask for help on your English papers.” Then Dean chuckled, “He called you awkward. And he hates your khaki’s.”

Castiel groaned again and let his face fall into his hands. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Dean was still chuckling when he reached for Castiel’s wrist. “Don’t worry about it, man, it didn’t make me see you differently or anything. He doesn’t even know that we’re roommates.”

Castiel looked up, letting Dean pull a hand away from his face. “He doesn’t?”

“Nah, man. He left before I could say anything. It’s all good, Cas, I promise. Breathe.” Dean laughed again, and Castiel reveled in the warmth of the sound. He smiled, and Dean smiled back.

Neither of them noticed when Dean’s grip on Castiel’s wrist slowly moved to his palm, Castiel’s fingers closing over Dean’s.

Benny, on the other hand, noticed immediately.

Carrying their plates, Benny cleared his throat loudly to get Dean and Castiel’s attention. Their hands moved apart so quickly, it was as if they had never touched. “Just roommates, having dinner together. Sure. Of course.” He placed their plates in front of them, and then turned to mouth something in Dean’s direction, to which Dean responded, “Oh, fuck off, Lafitte.”

Benny only laughed as he walked back to the counter. Castiel made a face. “What did he say to you?”

Dean’s face flashed something like embarrassment, but Castiel didn’t catch it. “Uh, nothing. Man, this pie looks good. How’s your spaghetti?”

Cas shook his head and smiled. Usually, it would bother him when someone tried to change the subject whenever he asked a question, but with Dean, it was almost admirable.

~

Dean realized he was eating rather quickly (although he wasn’t sure why he cared, since this definitely wasn’t a date), but he was worried that Cas would start asking more questions about what Benny had implied, and the thought of explaining to Cas that Benny was convinced that Dean had feelings for Cas made him cringe. _Talk about girly,_ he thought.

After finishing his pizza, he chanced a look at Cas and regretted his decision immediately. Cas had just swallowed a forkful of spaghetti and was licking his lips just as Dean looked up.

“Mmmmm,” was the sound coming through his lips, eyes closed while savoring the taste in his mouth, and Dean didn’t know what to do with himself.

“That is _delicious_.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, breathier then he anticipated. When Cas’s attention suddenly shifted to Dean, he coughed a few times, looking from his watch to the window and anywhere but Castiel.

“Are…you okay?” Cas asked, completely oblivious.

“Huh? Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. We should, um, probably get back soon. I’ve got…homework…and stuff. You know.” Dean hoped that excuse worked. _Why am I so nervous?_

“Oh, okay, sure.” Cas managed to finish eating in under five minutes, and called Anna to give them their check. Anna sauntered over, trying way too hard to be sexy, but Dean thought it was cute. When she got to the table, she flipped her hair and smiled.

When Dean winked at her, she giggled. Cas’s face went stone cold, causing Dean to look at his hands in shame. _It’s not like she’s twelve, sheesh._

Anna rolled her eyes. “So, separate checks?”

“Yes –,” Cas began.

“No,” Dean corrected. Cas looked at him sideways. “Cas, dude, I’m doing this because I owe you for being a jerk earlier, remember?”

“Oh,” Cas nodded, recalling their earlier dispute. He looked up at Anna, “One check. And um, when does your shift end? I assume Dad still expects you home at a decent hour.”

“Soon, Cassie. Goodness gracious, you’re such a mom.” She turned to Dean. “Here’s your check. Feel free to leave a large tip.”

“Anna! No hustling the customers!” Benny shouted playfully, making his way to the booth. “Don’t worry about the check, brother; on the house. Come back soon!”

When he walked away, Anna made a face at Dean, placing her hands on those pretty little hips of hers. “Sorry, sweet cheeks, college ain’t cheap. I take all the discounts I can get.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she replied, and then, “maybe you can take me out to dinner, instead?”

In any other circumstance, Dean would have said yes in a heartbeat, but she was seventeen, she was Cas’s sister, and by the way Cas was glaring at him, Dean could tell he most definitely did _not_ approve.

“M-maybe some other time, alright?”

“Or never,” Cas responded. At this, Anna stomped off, mumbling obscenities and hands balled into fists. Then Cas looked back at Dean. “Really? My _sister_?” He began making his way out of the booth. Dean followed suit.

“Oh, come on, man, I was just –.”

“You were flirting with my underage sister. I know. I was there.” Cas motioned toward the area in which they were standing. “Can we just go?”

Before Dean could respond, Castiel was walking out of the front doors on the diner and heading toward the Impala. Dean almost ran after him, afraid of losing his new friend, but instead, took a deep breath and calmly followed him outside. _I drove him here, he can’t run off. I can fix this. I can still fix this._

When Dean reached the car, Cas was facing away from him, leaning on the trunk, palms pressed on the metal, his arms by his sides. As he made his way around, Dean could see Castiel’s midnight-colored hair flopping around in the cool breeze. He was looking straight ahead, and his eyes were practically shining in the reflection of the setting sun.

_So damn blue._

Suddenly, Cas turned to face him, a confused look on his face. “What did you say?”

“What? I didn’t –.” Had he thought that out loud? Fuck. “Nothing, look man, I didn’t mean to piss you off by hitting on your sister, okay? I knew it wasn’t gonna go anywhere, you said it yourself, she’s too young.”

Cas crossed his arms. “You could have at least been a little more subtle.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, okay? Won’t happen again. Promise.”

Dean hated sounding like he was begging for mercy, but he could NOT screw this up. Not twice in one day. Not with someone he might actually really like. As a friend, that is.

_I think._


	5. Chapter 5

Cas would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little shocked. Dean Winchester was practically begging for forgiveness for the second time that day. He really didn’t want to forgive him. He _hit on his underage sister,_ for goodness sake! Right in front of him! But there he stood, with pleading green eyes and biting his lip.

_ Damn that mouth.  _

Castiel sighed, long and exaggerated. “Fine,” he said plainly. 

Dean’s face expressed something between surprise and extreme joy before he replaced it with a mask of content. “Cool,” he said, nodding once. Then he made his way over to the driver side door and opened it, looking back at Castiel. 

“You comin’?”

“Uh, yes,” Castiel replied, opening his own door and sliding into the passenger seat. 

On their way back to their dorm, they sat in comfortable silence, Dean rolling down the windows and letting the radio play. It was actually quite pleasant, and Castiel decided that wouldn’t mind doing this more often – sitting in the passenger seat, listening to Dean hum out his favorite parts of the songs that played. 

_ Wow, when did I turn into such a girl? _

When he and Dean got to their building, Dean parked the Impala and they took the stairs back up to their room. 

This time, Dean didn’t complain.

Castiel unlocked their door and walked inside, Dean following behind him and shutting the door. 

“I’m gonna grab a shower,” Dean said, before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Castiel hoped he wouldn’t be too long; he didn’t need the hot water running out when it was his turn. To pass the time, he took his laptop off his desk and leaned against the headboard of his bed, positioning the thin computer on his thighs. He checked his email to find a few messages from his professors, and a couple from Gabe, asking him to “watch this funny video”, or “check out this hilarious meme.” Castiel skipped over those; Gabriel was always such a child. It was almost charming at times. 

He checked his social networks for notifications, responding to some while ignoring others. After scrolling and reading for a few minutes, he heard – felt – his phone vibrate in his pocket. He shut the laptop and put it to the side to pull out his cell. 

It was Gabriel. _Speak of the devil._

Cas hit the answer button. “Yes, Gabriel?”

“Cassie! Hiya, hi hi hi! Have I told you that I love you lately? I love you love you love you!” 

Castiel groaned. His brother was drunk.

“Gabe, please tell me you’re not –.”

“Wa-wa-way-sted?” Gabriel burst into laughter. “Why yes! Yes I am, and instead of calling one of my exes, I called you! Like you told me, remember?”

Castiel had always worried about Gabe’s high tolerance to alcohol. Gabe was a sloppy drunk, and if he drank enough, he became a black hole, calling everyone in his phone and apologizing profusely for various things that probably happened ages ago. When Cas found out about this, he decided he would rather get those calls then some ex who would just get pisssed off and make Gabriel feel even worse.  

He almost regretted that decision now. 

“Gabriel, its Tuesday.”

“Well it’s thirsty Thursday somewhere, right? Woo!”

Castiel laughed a little at that. “Um, I think you’ve got that saying mixed up, Gabe.” He could hear people shouting in the background. _Where is he? On a freakin’ Tuesday?_

“Oh well, oh shit Cassie, this place is on fire tonight!”

 “Gabe, hey, Gabriel, shouldn’t you be getting back to your room soon?”

“Nah, man, I haven’t got class till 1 tomorrow! Isn’t – oh I gotta go, bro, hot females calling!”

“Gabriel? Gabriel, wait, be caref –.”

The phone clicked shut before Castiel could give him the big brother speech: Be careful, use protection, stay away from needles, and don’t drink it if a stranger hands it to you. 

Castiel sighed and reached to place his phone on the bedside table. Just then, he heard the bathroom door creek open. He looked up, expecting to see a damp, clothed Dean Winchester, but instead, he saw a damp, naked-under-that-towel Dean.

_ Jesus. _

Dean Winchester had 6-pack abs, a perfectly sculpted chest, and arms made to carry damsels out of burning buildings. Castiel couldn’t help but stare, but Dean didn’t seem to notice.

“Sorry, dude, forgot my clothes.”

_ No need to apologize.  _ “I, um, that’s. It’s no prob. No problem.” 

Dean rummaged through a couple drawers, taking out what Castiel assumed were his pajamas. When he had what he needed, Dean turned to walk back into the bathroom, and that’s when Cas saw it.

Drawn on Dean’s back, in black ink, were two large wings. 

Castiel all but choked on air.

~

Dean shut the bathroom door and placed his lounge pants and t-shirt on the small shelf above the toilet. After brushing his teeth in front of the mirror, he reached for his pants and slid them on, turning to place his towel on the hook on the opposite wall. Before turning back around, he caught a glimpse of something black in the mirror. _What the..?_

Upon further inspection, he recognized the glimpse of black as tattooed wings on his back.

“Holy shit!” 

“Is everything alright?” Dean heard Cas ask through the door. 

“Uh, yeah! Sorry, man, just ignore me.” 

Dean could not stop staring at his back in awe. After years of imagining what his tattoo would look like, what his _soul mate’s_ tattoo would look like, he had never imagined that they would be wings, of all things.

“Holy shit,” he said again in a whisper. He reached a hand around to his back to touch the ink, but hissed when it stung, still fresh. He was mildly excited, but extremely nervous. He hadn’t thought much about who he was going to be stuck with forever. Whoever it was, he hoped that he or she was hot. Suddenly, Dean remembered how Cas had admitted to getting his tattoo just that morning. On his back. _What if…?_

No. No way. It couldn’t be Castiel. He and Dean were like fire and water. You couldn’t be matched with someone who was so completely different from you, could you? _Could you?_ Dean shook his head as he pulled on his white t-shirt, careful not to hurt the skin on his back. He wanted to tell someone, but he didn’t have anyone but Cas, and _what if_ , by some strange cosmic event, they actually did have the same tattoos? That would make things palpably awkward. _Talk about great ways to ruin a friendship._ No, Dean would keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t fuck up another potentially good thing. _Not again._

Dean shook himself and released a shaky breath. _Get a grip, you wuss._ Putting on a façade of normalcy, Dean opened the bathroom door and walked to his bed, sat down, and pulled a few magazines off his dresser to keep himself busy. He could see Cas eyeing him in his peripheral vision. He looked up at him.

“What?” 

Cas looked like he had been in a trance. “Nothing, just – no, nothing. Sorry.” 

Dean watched Castiel turn his attention back to his laptop, scrolling and typing as he was before, but there was an edge to him – Dean could feel the tension in the room rise. He groaned. What had he done this time? He couldn’t think of anything.

“Dude, did I piss you off again or something?” He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Because if I did –.”

Castiel looked up again. “Hmm? Oh, no, no you didn’t... you didn’t do anything, Dean.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m getting the vibe that something’s wrong.”

“Everything’s fine, Dean,” Cas replied, emphasizing the word _fine._ He gave Dean a small smile. “Really. We’re good.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, continuing to flip through the magazines in front of him. “Whatever you say, man.” 

~

The next morning, Castiel was still definitely acting weird, and Dean, for the life of him, couldn’t put a finger on why. Whenever he asked, Cas would simply put a hand up, stopping Dean midsentence, and reassure him that they were fine, that he hadn’t done anything to upset him, that all was well. 

Dean didn’t believe him. 

The week went by rather quickly and nothing too exciting happened. He went to class, and then went to work. Dean did his best to keep his back covered and suppressed the urge to tell Castiel about his new tattoo. Castiel had sat next to him during their biology lecture on Thursday, since they were lab partners, but they didn’t do much talking, and the class was short. That day, Dean had been so bored after his classes, he settled on hanging out with Sammy for a while after work. Sam introduced him to a couple of his friends, one of which was the cute blond from his bio lab. _How did Sammy manage to make friends with a hot senior?_

“She’s the TA in my stats class,” explained Sam. “I asked her for help, and she thought I was sweet, told me to call her if I needed help getting around campus or whatever. Her names Jo.” Sam grinned. Dean laughed.  

“Well don’t go getting any ideas, kiddo.” He winked, “I saw her first.” 

Sam made a bitchface at Dean, clearly annoyed. “First of all, can you stop calling me kiddo? I’m not a child anymore, Dean, I’m 18.”

“But you’re still my little brother, and I’ll call you whatever the hell I want.” Dean ruffled Sam’s hair, well aware of how much he hated it.

“Ugh, Dean, quit!” He huffed. “Second, why do you always get to call dibs on hot girls?”

“Because I’m the oldest, Sammy.” Dean smirked. “Besides, she’s too old for you. I’m sure there’s some tasty fresh meat in your class.”

Sam rolled his eyes. 

After they grabbed some dinner in the dining hall, they went their separate ways, Dean telling Sam not to drink too much if he partied that night, and Sam telling Dean he had a quiz to study for anyway. The conversation ended with a mutual feeling of _how are we even related?_

Dean made his way back to his room to find Castiel busy with what he assumed was school work, bobbing his head to whatever was playing in his blue headphones. He looked up when Dean walked in, jumping a little when the door opened. He gave Dean a nod before going back to work. 

That’s all he got? _A nod?_ Dean sighed and sat at his own desk, figuring he might as well get some work done, since tomorrow was Friday, and he would not be doing _any_ work whatsoever. Dean loved the weekend – parties, booze, hot girls, cute guys, and music. What’s not to love? The only disadvantage he had was, once again, being the new kid. But that usually wasn’t much of a problem; people tended to learn his name rather quickly with all the shenanigans he pulled. 

“Hey, Cas,” he called, but Castiel hadn’t heard him. “Cas!” he called louder, which got the man’s attention. He pulled off his headphones.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if you knew of any parties happening tomorrow night?”

He could see Castiel shake his head slightly, annoyed, but he couldn’t spend his Friday night in his dorm! What kind of loser did _that?_

“Well, they usually hold a huge homecoming party in one of the frat houses right outside campus.”

“Have you ever been?” Dean asked, curious. 

“Yeah, freshman year I got pressured into showing up, so I did.” He looked up from his work to face Dean. “Worst. Decision. Ever.” 

Dean had to laugh. “What? How could going to a party be a bad decision? Did you drink too much or something?”

“Yes. I woke up on the roof without a shirt on. I was so hung over I couldn’t get down by myself at first so I just lay there, shirtless, for more than an hour, before I realized that there was an open window that led to the attic.”

At this point, Dean was hunched over in his chair he was laughing so hard. He would have never imagined Castiel for the crazy drunk type. “Oh man,” he said, trying to calm himself down. “Please, please, _please_ tell me you are going tomorrow.”

Cas kept a straight face. “I never went to a house party again after that. Strictly clubs and bars, and I haven’t even been to many of those.”

“Why not?”

“Eh, not my kind of thing. I’d rather see a movie, or go to a museum, or some sort of music festival.”

Dean had to stop himself from telling Cas how adorable he thought that was. “Well, I’m going tomorrow night, and you can’t expect me to show up by myself.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Cas asked.

“No one knows me! It would be weird, not to mention pathetic. You’ve gotta come with, man. I’ll even make sure you don’t drink too much.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Then it’s settled! You’re coming with. Thanks, man, you’re the best!” 

Dean was so excited he could squeal, but Winchesters _never_ squeal. He was going to a party, and he planned on making an impression. He hoped Cas wouldn’t be a party pooper, but by the end of the night, Dean would probably be too drunk to care. 


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel did _not_ want to go that party. Not after he had seen Dean’s tattoo, which was identical to his own. _We’re soul mates,_ Castiel thought again, the mantra he had been repeating to himself for days, trying to understand. He couldn’t believe it. How could he handle going to a party with Dean, who had _no clue_ that they had the same tattoos, or that Castiel knew about it? How could he go all night without slipping up and telling him? He had already been avoiding him all week, afraid he’d slip up. But he didn’t want to make Dean go to a party all by himself; that would be a dick move on his part. 

It was going to be a long day.

Friday started off normally – Cas skipped breakfast and headed to his 9AM class, Dean slept in until his class at noon. They were both free a little after 1, and Dean suggested they head to the dining hall for a quick lunch. Reluctantly, Cas agreed to go. They got their food and sat down at a table near the center of the hall. Then, things got a little odd.

Random people, well, people Cas had seen around but never met, kept passing by their table to say hello to Dean. To _Dean,_ the new kid who just moved into town! To say Castiel was surprised would be an understatement, and he _definitely_ was _not_ impressed. Some of them gave him a punch on the arm, while others batted their lashes and flirted obliviously. Dean drank it all in, his face beaming with pride. Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dean caught him.

“What?”

Castiel groaned. “How are y –.” Before he could finish his sentence, Jo walked up to them. 

“Hey, Castiel, and you’re… Dean, right?” she asked, pointing at him. 

“That’s right,” Dean replied, smirking. Castiel avoided looking at Dean’s mouth, _again._ “What can we do for you, sweetheart?” 

Jo raised her eyebrows, but continued. “A little birdy told me that you guys are coming to the homecoming party tonight. That true? It’s gonna be kickass.” She smiled. 

“A little birdy…?” Castiel chimed in. He didn’t tell anyone he was going, only… _Oh. Dean._

Dean looked like he was concentrating, and then nodded to himself, directing his attention at Jo. 

“Sammy told you, didn’t he?” He laughed. “That bitch.”

_ Who’s Sammy?  _ “Wait… who is this… Sammy?” Castiel asked, eyes darting from Dean to Jo.

“Dean’s little brother. You didn’t know?” Jo responded.

Cas looked at Dean. “You have a brother?” 

“I didn’t think it was relevant seeing as we just met,” Dean said mockingly. 

Castiel would have rolled his eyes again if he wasn’t so worried they would get stuck. “Oh, you’re cute,” he said, scoffing. 

Jo laughed, “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys tonight.”

“Oh, you will,” Dean replied, winking. Jo giggled, turning to walk back towards where she was sitting. 

“Could you _be_ more suggestive?” Castiel asked.

“Cute? Suggestive?” Dean laughed. “You sweet on me, Cas?” 

“What?” Castiel’s blood went cold. _Did he just ask me if I liked him?_ “No, I – not like –.”He couldn’t tell if Dean was messing with him, or if he actually thought Castiel might have a crush on him. _Why did I call him cute? Of ALL the words I could have said –_ in a panic, Castiel looked at his watch and came up with an excuse to get away from Dean. 

“Oh, wow, I’ve got class soon. Gotta go, see ya later.” Castiel grabbed his things and made a B-line for the door, ignoring Dean’s questions and protests.

When he got outside, Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, but the moment was short lived. _The party._ He would be stuck with a hot, pretty-mouthed, probably drunk, Dean Winchester all night. Castiel shook his head the entire way to his class.

_ I’m fucked. _

_ ~ _

Dean was still confused when he reached his dorm after leaving the dining hall. Castiel was still in class, so he couldn’t ask him why the hell he felt the need to run off like a scared baby in a polo shirt. He was only kidding when he asked Cas if he was sweet on him. He _knew_ Cas was not. They were so different, and Cas seemed like the type who looked for stability, and honestly, and just… everything Dean was _not,_ no matter how much he wished he was. 

With a sigh, Dean flopped back onto his bed and winced. His back still stung him a little. _Wimp._ He reached over to his bedside table drawer and pulled out his tape player. It already had his favorite tape in it – the first song on side A was Hey Jude – the song his mother sang to him when he was younger. He smiled and hit play, closing his eyes to listen to the melody. This was a regular thing for Dean, listening to his favorite songs when he was alone. Listening with other people around just wouldn’t do them justice, unless he was driving the Impala, of course. 

Dean fell asleep, but woke up when Cas walked in. He looked at his watch to find that it was already past 7. _I was out for 4 hours?_

“Hey,” muttered Cas, dropping his things on his bed before collapsing down himself, head buried into his pillow. 

Dean sat up, confused. “Dude, Cas, you alright?” 

Castiel groaned in response. Dean chuckled. 

“You know, faking sick isn’t going to get you out of going to the party with me.”

To that, Castiel groaned again.

“You thought I forgot? Ha! Tough luck. You’re going if I have to carry you myself.” 

To that, Castiel looked up. “Why do you need me to go so badly, Dean? You seem pretty independent, I’m sure you’d be fine on your own. But I’ll go with you, don’t worry, I just don’t see what the big deal is.” 

_ I don’t need you,  _ he thought. _I just –_ Dean did what he did best when people said things that made him nervous: he deflected. 

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” he said, getting up to find some clothes to change into. 

“I thought we weren’t leaving for like…” Cas looked over to the digital clock on his desk, “another couple hours, at least?” 

“Uh, we have to pregame?” _Duh._

Cas rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, I don’t think I’m drinking tonight.”

Dean turned and began pulling off his shirt. “Good, you can drive.” He threw his shirt in the laundry basket inside his closet, waiting for some sort of complaint from Cas, but it never came. When he turned back around, Cas’s eyes were wide. Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion, and then realized what Cas had been gaping at – his back. Specifically, the tattoo on his back. _Shit._

“Crap! I’m sorry, man, I didn’t –.”

“It’s fine, no worries,” Cas started, turning away from Dean, grabbing a book from his night stand. 

“I – okay,” Dean decided that the sooner he let this go, the sooner he could forget it ever happened. He walked backwards into the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t trip and make an ever _bigger_ fool of himself.

~

“So sorry, dude,” Castiel heard Dean say before closing the bathroom door. Castiel sat on his bed with a book in his hand, open to a random page, but his mind wasn’t working enough to read the text. _Dammit._ He had forgotten about the whole _matching tattoos, soul mates, meant to be_ thing for long enough to disregard that it was driving him crazy. After class, he had found Gabriel, who was hung over and upset and Castiel had to play mother hen, _again,_ because Gabe had called one of his ex’s the night before. It was exhausting, watching out for a rebellious, sensitive kid like Gabe, but someone had to do it. After their long conversation, all Castiel wanted to do was come back to his dorm and sleep, but Dean was there. Smart-mouthed, pretty-eyed Dean and Castiel swore the universe was out to get him. His roommate was his soul mate. _What are the odds?_

He considered, for the umpteenth time, just telling Dean, flat out. _Hey, man, so uh, we’re soul mates._ Dean would probably freak. Who would want to be stuck with someone as boring as him for the rest of their lives? Castiel let out an audible sigh then got up to rummage through his closet for something to wear to the frat party. 

A minute later, the bathroom door opened. Dean walked out, fully dressed, hair blow dried and swept up neatly. Castiel had only meant to take a glance, but he couldn’t get his eyes to unglue themselves from Dean. Dean wore a simple black dress shirt, top couple buttons undone, and the sleeves tightened around the muscles in his upper arms when he rolled them up to his elbows. He had tucked the shirt into the waistline of his straight leg, dark wash jeans, secured with a black belt. _Fuck._

“You look –,” Cas began, unsure of what to say. He shook his head, “ Isn’t that a little fancy?”

Dean scoffed, “Just because I’m gonna get wasted doesn’t mean I can’t look classy doing it. Besides, I’m wearing Chucks. That’ll make it more casual.” He pulled a navy blue jacket out of his closet and shrugged it on, the reached down to pull on his black and white All-Stars. When he stood back up, something fell out of his jacket pocket. 

Castiel pointed. “Dean, I think you dropped, uh, something.” 

Dean looked to the floor and saw what Castiel was referring to. “Oh, _that’s_ where it went!” Dean crouched to pick up the object – a silver Zippo. 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “You smoke?” 

Dean looked at him nervously, “I, um, well I used to, all the damn time, in high school.” He flipped the lighter over in his hands. “I took this thing everywhere. Cigarettes were my solace.”

“But you don’t smoke anymore, right?” Cas asked. He wasn’t fond of the smell, and he could _not_ put up with being the husband of a smoker. _Stop thinking about that!_

Dean shrugged as he headed toward their bedroom door, keys in hand. “Only when I’m drunk,” he winked. 

Cas turned back towards his closet so Dean couldn’t see him bite his lip. 

“I’ll be downstairs, room 209. I met the guys who live there in one of my classes the other day, and they invited us for some drinks. Don’t take forever!” 

And with that, he was out the door. Cas took a long, labored breath. _How am I going to do this?_ He could no longer deny his physical attraction to Dean. The man was beautiful. 

Castiel huffed and headed for the shower. When he was finished, he decided to shave. _Why not?_ He put all sorts of product in his hair until it had some volume, and then combed it up and to the side. He put on a white button up top, and his only pair of jeans – they were black. He shoved his feet into his Vans and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. _Not bad,_ he thought, brushing his fingers through his still damp hair once more. He laughed, remembering how the first thing Dean had ever said to him was _nice sex hair._ Well, this time, that’s what he was aiming for. 

He put his wallet and his phone in his pocket, and set out to find room 209. 

~

Dean was laughing at a joke Ash has just told, beer in hand, when he heard a knock at the door. 

“That must be Cas, finally,” he said, getting up to open the door. 

“He- oh, hey,” Dean’s voice accidently dropped an octave when he saw Castiel. He tried to take it all in – the white shirt, the black skinny’s, the clean shaven face, the _godly_ hair – but his body was making him feel things and he wasn’t sure how to react.

“Hello, Dean,” said Cas, pulling Dean out of his momentary daze. 

Dean coughed, motioning for Cas to come in. “Guys, this is my roommate, Cas. Cas, this is Ash, and his roommate, Kevin.” He pointed to each of them, and Cas gave a slight nod before looking back over at Dean and smiling. 

_ God, he’s cute,  _ Dean thought, his body malfunctioning again. He shook it off and offered Cas a beer. 

Cas took it, but coked his head to the side in question. “I thought I was driving..?” 

“Are you a lightweight or something? Come on, man, its _one_ beer. Just don’t drink the whole thing.”

“I’ll drink the rest,” Ash called, raising a hand. 

“He would drink an entire cooler if someone let him,” Kevin added, laughing. “The man is immune to drunkenness, I swear.” 

“Immune to drunkenness?” Cas asked. 

“Apparently, he doesn’t even get bad hangovers,” Dean added, trying to focus on something _other_ than Castiel’s fucking _immaculate_ sex hair. He tried not to think about tangling his fingers in it, but was failing miserably. 

After finishing off a couple more beers, Dean was ready to go. They had been sitting around for more than an hour, and alcohol made him restless. 

“Hey, Cas, wanna get going?” 

Cas had been having an intense conversation about some astronomical phenomenon with Kevin when he looked over to Dean.

“Yeah, sure.” 

They tossed their beer cans in the trash – Cas had only had one – and headed out the door, telling Kevin and Ash that they’d hopefully see them at the party. 

When they reached the parking lot, Dean fished through his pockets and pulled out his keys. Cas opened his hand to take them from him, but Dean pulled them away, hesitation in his eyes. 

Cas sighed. “Dean, give me the keys.” 

“You be careful with my baby, alright? I never, and I mean _never_ let anyone but my dad drive her, but I’ve already had three drinks, and I don’t wanna die tonight.”

“It seems to me like you care more about the wellbeing of your car then your unhealthy attachment to it.” Cas said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“Smartass,” Dean snickered, handing Cas the keys and slipping into the passenger seat. Cas made his way to the other side of the Chevy and sat inside. It was more comfortable than he expected. After adjusting the seats and mirrors, he put the keys in the ignition. 

“Seat belt,” he said, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I’m tipsy, not stupid,” he retorted, clicking the belt into place. 

Castiel simply shook his head, smile on his face. Dean smiled, too. Cas changed gears and eased out of the parking lot.

~

“No, no, not here, someone’ll hit her!” Dean yelled from the passenger seat. Castiel was looking for somewhere to park that wasn’t too close too or too far from the frat house and Dean was being _extremely_ picky about where his _baby_ would be safe.

“Dean, it is _just a car_.”

“Oh, yeah? Talk to me when you’ve wrecked a car and built it back up from scratch.” 

Castiel was a bit shocked at that. “You built it…from scratch?”

“Baby was totaled.”

“What did you hit?”

“Some trucker hit us –.”

“A truck?!” Cas was really shocked now. Dean didn’t seem to have any scars. _Not that I’ve seen… yet._ A collision like that must have been devastating. 

“Yeah, Sammy was driving, the poor kid, he was too scared to even sit in the front seat after that. PTSD and everything. But it’s all good now, the crash was years ago.” 

As Cas listened, he parallel parked in a spot a couple blocks away from the frat house, enough room left between the Impala and the cars in front and behind it. Dean looked pleased enough. 

“Yes, this is perfect.” Dean leaned over and put a hand on Castiel’s thigh, and he almost jumped at the contact, thinking Dean was going to kiss him right then and there. But he simply smiled, and said, “I knew you could do it, sport!” then moved his hand to punch Castiel in the arm. “Let’s go!” 

With Dean out of the car, Castiel took a moment to compose himself. _It’s just a party, it’s just a few hours, and all you have to do is get out sober. You can do it. You can –_

Castiel was shaken out of his thoughts when Dean knocked impatiently on the hood of the car. “You coming?” he asked, giddily. Castiel smiled, _he’s probably adorable when he’s drunk. Dammit._

Stepping out of the car, Castiel locked the doors and pocketed the keys. Dean gave his baby one last pat before strolling up next to Cas to walk down the street towards the party. It looked peaceful from the outside, smokers standing around with red solo cups, mingling. But when Dean opened the door, they were met with loud people and even louder music. Cas saw Dean rub his hands together, excited. There was hardly any room to move; the place was already packed, just as Castiel remembered from his freshman year. Of course, he was taller now, so he could actually see above most people’s heads. Some people wore nice clothes, dresses, heels, bowties, while others wore shorts and bikini tops. The music that played had an electronic feel to it, and Cas bobbed his head. 

“First things first,” Dean began, looking around, “more drinks! For me, that is.” 

They made their way over to the makeshift bar in the kitchen. Drinks of every kind were laid out on the counter, while a group of people played beer pong on the table. There was a trash bag half full of red cups at the door that lead to the basement, and a pile of cups and glasses in the sink. 

Dean was too hyped up to notice. He walked around the counter found a bottle of vodka. “Yes, this is quality stuff!” 

“Only the best for a homecoming party,” said a voice that Castiel recognized. He turned around to find Adam Milligan, dressed in a white dress shirt, skinny red tie, and skinny jeans, looking at him and Dean. 

“Castiel, man, I haven’t seen you in ages!” He walked up and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Last time I saw you, you were on the roof!” Adam laughed at Castiel’s groan. 

“Wait, so that _actually_ happened? Like, Cas was on the roof?” 

Adam looked to Dean, then back at Castiel. “Who’s your friend?” 

“Adam, this is my roommate, Dean. Dean, this is Adam. He lives here.”

“I’m the host,” said Adam, putting out a hand for Dean to shake. “So let me know if you need anything…anything at all.” 

Castiel assumed he was talking to both of them, but he kept his eyes on Dean. Their handshake lasted longer than Castiel was comfortable with. Finally, Adam let go. 

“Well, I’m off to mingle. See you two later!” Adam walked back into the living room, and Cas turned to find Dean still watching Adam leave. He felt a flash of… _anger?_ But why would he be angry? He snapped his fingers at Dean, startling him. 

“Are you going to drink the vodka, or walk around with the bottle?” Cas asked.

“Don’t get all sassy on me,” said Dean, rinsing out a shot glass in the sink. “If I walk around with the bottle, it’ll be empty by the end of the night, and I’ll have my head in a toilet. _Our_ toilet,” Dean emphasized. “So a couple shots’ll do. For now.” 

Dean smiled viciously as he poured the alcohol into the small shot glass, then bringing it to his lips, he knocked it back effortlessly, then did it again, this time wincing as he swallowed. Castiel watched his throat move up and down, surprised by the sudden urge to attack Dean’s neck with his own mouth. _I am too sober for this._

Dean slammed the glass back onto the counter and placed the vodka bottle by the sink. “Okay, let’s do this!” he yelled, practically yanking Castiel by the hand and pulling them into the crowd that filled the living room. They squeezed through sweaty bodies until they found an empty loveseat. Dean sped up to grab a seat and Castiel sat down next to him. Dean leaned back against the chair, arms draped over the top. Castiel could see Dean’s eyes glaze over with slight drunkenness. Before he could comment on it, Jo found them.

And _damn_ did she look good. Great, really. 

Her skirt was short enough to get attention, but left a lot to the imagination. Her halter top was bright blue and her blond hair made waves around her face. She wasn’t even wearing heels, but her legs looked miles long. She had also traded her glasses for contacts. 

“Hey, you guys,” she said smoothly, liquor bottle in hand. Castiel could tell it was almost empty. “Why aren’t you dancing or something? You can’t sit around at a party!” 

“Well, Dean just downed two shots, so I think he’s just getting used to the buzz right now.” 

“Oh, really?” Jo laughed. 

“Yeah, what he said,” Dean responded. “Hey, you wanna sit down? There’s room on my lap.” Dean winked, and Jo shook her head. Castiel was sure she’d decline, but instead she plopped right down onto Dean, then sprawled her legs onto Castiel’s lap. 

He shouldn’t have minded so much. It was a party, she and Dean were drinking, and he was sober. Of course he felt a little left out, he was the only one thinking clearly. But seeing Jo cozy up to Dean, sharing the rest of her drink with him, tickling his neck with her fingers –

Castiel got up suddenly, catching both Jo and Dean by surprise. 

“Cassie, where you goin’?” asked Dean. 

“Yeah, Cassie,” Jo repeated, smiling. 

“Bathroom,” Cas replied quickly, then walked off back into the kitchen. He found a bathroom there but the door was locked and he could hear moans coming from the inside. _Lovely._

He made his way to the basement, where he could hear more music. The bathroom was at the bottom of the stairs, and the door was open. He slipped inside and shut the door, running his hands along the wall to find the light switch. When the lights were on, Castiel looked at himself in the mirror. He looked untouched, like he hadn’t even been at the party. Well, that was partially true. His mind had been on Dean since they left the dorm. _Then Adam and Jo…_ Castiel realized he had nothing to be so upset about; it’s not as if anyone else knew that they had the same tattoo, that Dean was actually his. _Mine._ Shocked at his possessiveness, Castiel put his hands on his head and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He was falling for him. He was falling for soft lips and stupid jokes, for green eyes and inked wings. He was falling for Dean Winchester. 

_ I can’t let him ruin me,  _ he thought. He was going to have some fun, or at least try to. Just because he knew who his soul mate was didn’t mean he couldn’t try and snag someone else to have fun with. He left the bathroom with determination, but just as he walked out, he bumped right into a short girl with curly hair and bronzed skin.

“I’m so sorry,” he stammered, afraid he’s hurt her. 

“No, no, its okay,” she replied, “I’m sober, I have no excuse.” She giggled. 

Castiel had found his someone to snag.

He plastered on his prettiest face, and laughed along with her. “I’m sober, too. I guess I must be a klutz.” 

She smiled and offered him a hand. “I’m Cassie.” 

Castiel took her hand and kissed it. “I’m Castiel.” When he looked back at her face, she was blushing. _Hook, line, and sinker._

They made their way back up to the kitchen and got to conversing, which was easy since they were both sober. Cassie was the designated driver for a few friends. 

“Yeah, my roommate is making me drive him, too,” Castiel said, frowning a little. 

“Where is your roommate?” Cassie asked. 

“Probably making out with someone attractive,” Castiel replied, making Cassie giggle again. It felt good to be able to make a girl laugh. 

“Sounds like my ex from back down south” she said solemnly. “Haven’t seen him in years, but man, did he love making out.” Cas looked back at her, observing her tight jeans and low-cut t-shirt. _Oh, what the hell._ He backed her into a wall in the corner of the kitchen, one hand on her hip and the other on the wall next to her head, palm pressed flat against the fading wallpaper. He heard Cassie’s breath catch in her throat, then watched as a smile crept onto her lips. 

“Castiel,” she said, voice low, “this is unexpected.”

“Unexpected makes things more fun, don’t you think?” Before she could respond, Castiel dipped his head to kiss her neck. Her skin was warm and soft and it reminded him of Meg, but he tried not to think about her. Or Dean, whom he really wanted to kiss like that. When he moved his mouth to her jaw, Cassie sighed, her breath tickling Castiel’s ear. When he bit down harder, she gripped his shirt, popping a couple buttons loose. Before he could move his hands further up her shirt, he heard his name.

“Cas?”

Castiel whipped around to find Dean standing there, staring at him and Cassie. His hair was disheveled and he was missing his belt, and Castiel could only guess who’s fault that was. 

“Hello, Dean,” he started, and then turned to Cassie, “This is –.”

“I know damn well who that is,” Dean snapped. Castiel looked at him, completely lost, and then back at Cassie, who had a look of guilt on her face. Castiel took a step away from her. _Do they know each other?_

“Wait,” he said, looking between Cassie and Dean, “when you were talking about your ex, did you mean –.?” 

“Dean Winchester,” Cassie finished, her voice distraught. “And when you mentioned your roommate, I’m assuming –.”

“Yeah, I’m his roommate, you’re my ex, blah blah blah, what the hell is going on here?” Dean was angry, and Castiel could tell he was extremely inebriated. 

Castiel knew he needed to get him to calm down. “Dean, look, we didn’t know – I didn’t know, and if I did, I wouldn’t have –.”

“What, you would have reconsidered sucking face with my ex?” He looked back at Cassie, but continued speaking to Castiel. “We broke up because she got her tattoo, and she said she wanted to wait for her soul mate. But, it seems like she just couldn’t give up on her slutty little ways,” Dean spat out.

Cassie’s jaw dropped in disbelief, which was quickly replaced by anger. “I haven’t seen you in 6 years! What was I supposed to do, wait until you got your tattoo? Do you realize how often you move?”

“That doesn’t mean –.” 

“What are you even angry about, Dean?” Cassie asked, frustrated. “So I made out with your roommate. So _what?_ I never said I would wait for you, and you certainly didn’t wait for me,” she gestured towards Dean’s missing belt and overall _just been sexed_ look before storming out of the kitchen. 

Castiel didn’t know what to say, but he had to defend Cassie. Dean was being a hypocrite! “Dean, she wasn’t doing anything wro –.”

“And you!” Dean turned to point at him, “What the _fuck,_ man!” 

“Dean, I didn’t know she was your ex! I honestly don’t understand why you’re so upset if you haven’t even seen each other in six –.” 

“You could have _asked_ me!”

Castiel made a face. Asked him? _For what? Permission to kiss another girl?_ Castiel realized that Dean was not rational enough to be arguing. 

“Dean, let’s just go, okay?” He took Dean’s arm before he could protest and pulled him out of the house, walking swiftly to the Impala while Dean fought against his grip. When they finally got to the car, Castiel let go of Dean, sending him stumbling against the driver side door. When he found his footing, he turned toward Castiel and crossed his arms. 

Castiel groaned. “Move it, Dean, let’s go.”

“No.”

“Dean, stop being an asshole –.”

“I’m not the one making out with people’s ex’s –.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one cheating on my soul mate!” Castiel yelled, too loudly, too forcefully. Dean shrank back, letting his arms drop.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked, clearly confused. “Okay, yeah, so you saw my tattoo, but no one else knows I have it – well, Jo knows now, but that doesn’t –.”

“Shut up!” Castiel bellowed once more, “Just, shut up! I don’t want to hear about Jo, or Adam, or Cassie, or anything! I shouldn’t have come here with you; I should have known you’d just screw up my night.” 

Something like hurt flickered behind Dean’s eyes, and he stared at Castiel for what seemed like an eternity before walking to the passenger side of the car and getting inside. Castiel was worried that he might have actually affected Dean with something he said, but he was still too angry to care. He got into the car they drove back to the dorm, without so much as a word passing between them. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was so much positive feedback to chapter 6, I decided to post chapter 7 early. You guys are the best! 
> 
> Enjoy! This chapter is angsty <3

When they got back to the dorm, it was almost 2AM. Cas looked ready to hit the hay but Dean kept stumbling into him, needing to say something, but too drunk to find the words. 

“What is it, Dean?” Castiel asked after setting Dean’s keys down on his desk once they were in their room. Dean held out his hands to steady himself, and took a deep breath. He patted his jacket pocket and relaxed a little. 

“I need a cigarette.” 

Castiel blinked. “You – oh. Well, okay, do you need –?”

“I am so, _so_ fucking pissed at you right now,” Dean grit out, but Castiel didn’t look too startled by it. Cas was pissed, too, he knew that. He wasn’t completely sure why, though, only able to remember bits and pieces of their earlier argument. Dean took another breath. “But I am too drunk to be alone,” then he chuckled, “might drive off a cliff.” 

He was only half joking.

There was a pause, and Castiel slowly reached for Dean’s keys, pocketing them once more. Dean pretended not to notice. 

“I really need a cigarette,” he said again, stepping over to his dresser and fishing a pack of Camel out of the top drawer, “so you should come with me.”

Thankfully, Castiel obliged. 

There was a balcony on each floor of their dorm building, fully equipped with ash trays, electric lanterns, and cushioned benches. 

They made their way towards two benches that were parallel to each other. Dean sat on one and lit his cigarette, blowing out a puff of smoke as Cas lay himself down on the other bench. He didn’t say anything; just lay on his back, staring up at the stars. Dean looked over to the balcony railing. The view was pretty nice – they were high up enough on the fifth floor to see a lot of the campus, and even some highway.

Dean took another slow inhale of his cigarette and turned his gaze back towards Castiel. He was still in the same position, eyes closed now. His face shone pale in the glow of the full moon. The slight breeze made his hair brush across his forehead. Dean’s hand was nearing the ash tray when Cas suddenly shifted. A little stunned, Dean’s hand jerked back, and he knocked over the tray. The thin glass broke in half when it hit the plastic floor.

Castiel’s eyes opened and he sat up a little, assessing the damage. “Shit, Dean,” he said lightly, “Do you break everything you touch?”

Cas’s words weren’t meant to hurt; they were completely neutral in their delivery, but they still made Dean’s stomach twist into knots. He tried to hide the bewilderment on his face by looking down at his feet, placing his half-smoked cigarette in one of the broken pieces of glass and running a hand through his short hair. Cas had been right before – it wasn’t normal to make a huge deal about going to some party. He shouldn’t have forced him to go with him, shouldn’t have been so _selfish._ But Dean had his reasons, he just wasn’t sure he was ready to share. 

Cas must have been excellent at reading people, because he swiftly shifted into a sitting position, leaning forward to face Dean. He placed a hand on Dean’s knee in concern. 

That got Dean’s attention.

“Dean, hey,” Cas began, voice filled so much care that Dean didn’t know if he should vomit or cry, “what’s going on?” 

Dean was about to retaliate the onslaught of emotion with denial and manliness, but when he looked into the oceans of blue that were Castiel’s eyes, they screamed _You can trust me,_ and Dean was drunk and tired and his inhibitions were nonexistent, and he deflated completely.

The tears came slowly at first, but soon he was heaving, grabbing at Cas’s dress shirt for support. 

“Whoa,” was the first sound out of Castiel’s mouth before he moved onto the other bench, sitting down next to Dean as he twisted his body and fell into Cas’s chest, openly _sobbing,_ mumbling words that Cas couldn’t make out. 

“Hey, hey, shhh,” soothed Cas, wrapping his arms around Dean and rubbing circles on his back. “Dean, it’s okay, it’s alright, you’re alright.”

But Dean shook his head furiously, because it’s wasn’t okay. _It’s not okay, I’m not okay, nothing is ever okay._ He pushed himself off of Cas’s chest to look him in the face.

“You’re right,” he croaked, throat sore from all the crying, and Dean hated feeling so vulnerable, but in his heart, he knew he could trust Castiel. That fact alone terrified him more than anything, but he pushed on; there was no turning back now.

~

“What are you talking about?” Castiel asked, searching Dean’s face for some sort of clarity. 

Dean took a shaky breath, “I break – I break everything, and I screw up… I’m such a screw up –.”

Castiel’s eyes widened, “Oh, Dean, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” He placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders, squeezing briefly, trying to reassure him. _Did my words trigger him?_ “Dean, please –.”

“No, no, I am, I’m a screw up and I’m selfish and I made you angry, and you should be angry, you should leave me, too, before –“

“Dean, I –”

“ – something worse happens, like a house fire or a car accident or –.”

“Dean!” Castiel shouted. He didn’t want to yell at the fragile man in front of him, but he needed to get his attention. Dean’s eyes shot up to look at his, green shining with tears that still fell. Castiel felt his heart clench when he realized, _Dean blames himself for that truck accident. But what house fire?_ Castiel decided not to ask questions; he figured Dean would bring it up when he was ready.

Afraid Dean might start sobbing again, Castiel was sure to choose his words very carefully. “Dean,” he said softly, moving one hand to trace the outline of his jaw with his fingertips. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Dean barely leaned into Castiel’s touch before pulling away suddenly, hands flying off of Castiel’s shirt as if it had stung him. He looked lost, and scared, and unsure of what to do. Castiel remained still, wary of whatever Dean would decide to do next. In his drunkenness, Castiel expected him to lash out, maybe cry some more. 

What he did not expect, was a kiss. 

And it was not your simple peck on the lips, either. Dean faced Castiel and practically _lunged_ at him, placing one hand firmly behind his neck and the other on his waist, pulling Castiel into him, lips attacking with such fierceness, Castiel was surprised they didn’t topple over. Dean moved closer to Castiel, their knees knocking awkwardly as he pushed him backwards until he was almost laying flat on his back. Castiel’s mind went blank, then, completely caught off guard by Dean’s recklessness. When he could finally think again, he thought about kissing back. But he couldn’t take advantage of Dean – not like this. 

“Mmm- Dean,” Castiel tried to say, words muffled by Dean’s lips against his own. 

“Please,” he begged, his breath hot on Castiel’s lips, “Just – I need this right now I... need you.”

Dean kissed him again, angry and passionate, and Castiel couldn’t help but relish in the moment, but he soon came to his senses and squirmed a little, moving his arms up so he could place his palms on Dean’s chest to separate them. 

“What? What is it?” Dean asked, impatient and breathing heavily, face hovering mere centimeters above his. Castiel could hardly see the emerald in his eyes anymore; his pupils were so dilated. 

_ God. _

“We can’t just – I mean,” Castiel stammered, trying to regain the conviction that his voice had all but lost. “We need to slow down and think about this. You’re drunk, Dean, and I couldn’t –.”

Dean sat up abruptly, heat replaced with a harsh breeze above Castiel. He sat up as well, smoothing out his shirt, gaze focused on the man in front of him. Dean turned his head to stare back at Castiel, irises slowly returning to their natural color through his thick lashes. After a moment, Dean spoke.

“You’re rejecting me.” 

“I’m rejecti–?” Castiel choked on the word, repeating it as a question instead of a declaration. “Dean, I’m not –.”

“No, it’s okay, you should. Everyone should.” Dean placed his head in his hands. “All I do is hurt – all I do is let people down and no one needs that, no one wants me –.”

Castiel wanted to scream. If it was true that drunken words are honest words then Dean Winchester was the most self-loathing human being he had ever met, and it physically hurt him to see Dean that way – to see his Dean, his _soul mate_ that way. _I have to tell him,_ he thought, however, he was terrified of how Dean would react in such a fragile state. But he couldn’t keep listening to Dean’s monologue of self-hate. 

_ Screw it. _

Castiel stood up and stepped in front of Dean, lugging him upwards by the arms.

“What the –?” 

Placing a hand on each side of Dean’s face, Castiel kissed him, slowly, delicately, and he heard Dean let a soft moan escape his mouth, hands gripping loosely at the fabric at the small of Castiel’s back. When they finally broke apart, Dean looked puzzled, and Castiel smiled.

“I want you.”

Dean blinked. “You… _what?”_

Castiel took a deep breath. _Now or never._ “We’re soul mates, Dean.” 

Dean blinked again, and then he coughed. “We’re what?! You’re kidding, right? Look, I know I’m a mess right now but you don’t have to pretend –.” 

“No, Dean, I mean it – we _are_ soul mates.”  Castiel’s face fell a little. “What’s the matter?” He cocked his head to the side, pensive. Then, he understood. “You don’t think you deserve to be loved.”

~

Dean’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before shaking his head frantically and taking few steps away from Castiel. The statement had resonated with him, bouncing off the memories he had pushed to the back of his mind – the fire, the accident, those two he always kept too close to the surface, and now his emotions were pulling him under. Cas was right, when it came down to it, Dean didn’t think he deserved to be loved. Everyone he loved got hurt, and it was always, in part, because of him. He had never told anyone that before, and _damn it_ if the only way to keep from drowning was to let it out. 

He trusted Cas, but would Cas really want to deal with all his baggage? 

“I can show you,” Cas said suddenly, and Dean looked up, catching blue eyes in a stare. 

“What? Wait, your, uh, th-the tattoo? Y-you would do that?” Dean stammered, “Here? Now?”

“Why not?” Cas shrugged, “No one’s around, and I get the feeling that you need proof.”

And he was right again; Dean was a skeptic – he needed to see to believe, and even then, he doubted. But for Cas to show him this intimate piece of himself, his tattoo, Dean would have to find some faith. 

“I – okay.” Dean crossed his arms and exhaled. “Let’s see it.” 

Cas began unbuttoning his dress shirt, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. Dean was trying not to feel so nervous, but Castiel seemed confident, comfortable even. When the shirt was unbuttoned, Cas pulled if off of his arms and held it in one had. He raised an eyebrow at Dean, as if to ask if he really wanted to see. Dean nodded, and Cas turned around. 

Dean didn’t mean to gasp, but how else was he supposed to react? On Castiel’s back were two black wings, inked and identical to Dean’s tattoo. A sudden heat filled his stomach, and he swore he felt his heart skipped a beat. Before he could reach out and touch the other man’s back, Cas turned around again and started sliding his shirt on. 

“See?” Cas asked softly. “I wasn’t pretending.”

Dean was speechless. _How long has he known?_ He wondered why Cas hadn’t told him sooner, but he didn’t feel like pressing the issue right then. 

Dean turned and walked over to the balcony’s edge and looked out into the distance, hoping the skies would have an answer for the questions he couldn’t ask. He heard Cas follow after him, standing a few feet away, his arm resting on the railing.

“Dean,” Cas said, quiet and tense and it sounded like thunder in Dean’s mind. They were soul mates. _Soul mates._ How the hell did he get stuck with his soul mate as a roommate? This was not how he had planned on meeting the person he would be with for the rest of his life. And as for whom, Dean had accepted that he would probably wind up with someone who had mediocre looks and a shit personality, and he would only stay because of the mind blowing sex. But Cas, Castiel was _beautiful_ , and intelligent, and caring, and everything Dean could possibly need but would never dare to want. 

He wasn’t worthy of so much. Castiel deserved better than him. 

“Dean?” he heard again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Is it so hard to believe that someone could be made for you?”

Dean blew out a sharp breath before responding, eyes still looking forward. “You remember how I mentioned that my mother died?”

“Yes?” Cas replied, voice quiet, as if not to scare Dean away.

“Well, that night, I was making a fuss. I wanted cookies, but Mom had said it was too late for sweets,” Dean shook his head, smiling. “I threw a temper tantrum. I was four years old and I threw a damn tantrum for some damn cookies, and my dad, he would usually yell at me to shut me up, but that night,” Dean sighed and bit his lip, “that night, he told Mom to just make me the cookies.” 

Dean rubbed a hand against his eyes. They were wet. _Dammit._

“I guess I’d been super helpful with Sammy that day or something, because Mom took me to the kitchen and we started baking cookies. All was well, and we turned on the oven, and we put the cookies in, and Mom, she wanted to sit and wait for the cookies, so they wouldn’t burn, but,” and Dean had to laugh, because the guilt he’d buried so deep was now spilling out into the open with every word, “but I wanted her to read to me, in my room. And, she did. For me.”

In his peripheral vision, Dean could see the look on Castiel’s face change from that of pity and concern to sudden horrific realization, but he continued on. If he was going to talk about this, he would do it all at once. 

“Well, the cookies burned. Mom ran downstairs, and there must have been something wrong with the wiring of the oven, because she started screaming, and the next thing I knew, the entire kitchen was on fire.” Tears were falling from Dean’s eyes now, and he could see Cas inching closer. “I wanted to help her,” he croaked, “but Dad handed Sammy to me and told me to run, so I did. I thought he would get Mom, I thought –.” Dean slammed a fist on the railing, shutting his eyes. “I thought he would save her, but it was too late because the fire spread so quickly, too quickly, and by the time Dad got to the kitchen, there must have been so much smoke, and, and –.” Dean was crying again, and his guilt was eating him alive. He almost wanted to jump over the balcony edge, but then he felt Castiel’s hand surround his fist, and he didn’t even try to stop himself from turning to the other man and collapsing, tear-streaked face buried into Cas’s neck. 

Cas didn’t say anything, and Dean was thankful for that. Cas just wrapped an arm around his waist and placed his free hand on Dean’s neck, fingers rubbing gently against his skin. 

“You were only four years old, Dean,” he said after a few minutes. Dean had calmed down enough to move his head up to look at Cas. 

“You can’t blame yourself for –.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Dean interrupted. “You wanna talk age? Sam’s car accident? He was 15, I was 19. I told him he could drive, and for some crazy reason, Dad let him.”

“Dean –.”

“I had taught him, Cas!” Dean yelled, guilt quickly turning into anger. “I taught him to speed without getting caught, taught him how to change a tire, and I told him to watch out for crazy drivers at intersections, because,” Dean laughed, disgusted with himself, “because if anyone messed up the impala, I’d kill him.” 

Cas was quiet for a moment, and then, “Sam is alive, Dean.”

“Yeah? He was out for weeks, lying in a hospital bed, and I can’t even count how many times my father asked me why I’d let him drive. What I was thinking when I let him take the wheel.” Dean remembered that clearly, the look on his dad’s face, like he was pleading with him, _Why, Dean? Why the hell would you do that?_

“And when he came to, he was so scared of the car, of _any_ car, Cas, he was so _scared_.” Dean knew he was saying too much, and he blamed the all alcohol cruising through his blood, but Cas never flinched, taking it all in like bitter medicine. 

“Yes, you told me about that earlier,’ he replied.

“That was my fault,” Dean said, looking into Castiel’s soft eyes. “I don’t think Dad has ever really forgiven me for that. But who can blame him? I haven’t forgiven myself, either.” 

 “But, Dean,” Cas began, “just because you and I are soul mates, that doesn’t imply tha-.”

“That I’ll hurt you?” Dean asked, pulling away from Cas again. “That’s _exactly_ what it implies, Cas! Don’t you see?” 

Cas looked confused, and Dean covered his face with his hands, walking back over to the benches to sit down. Castiel didn’t move.

“I’m a mess, Cas, okay? And if we’re soul mates, that means you’re bound to get sucked into this – my tornado of a mess – and I can’t,” he paused, breathing deeply, picking and choosing his words. “When we – if – when I fall in love with you, I’m going to want to run,” Dean admitted.

“Run?” Castiel asked, moving to sit back down next to Dean. “Why would you want to run?”

“Because I can’t hurt another person I love,” Dean said loudly, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. “Not someone like you. I can’t do that to you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel made a noise that sounded like half a laugh. This was absolutely ridiculous, and Cas was more than a little worried about losing Dean to his own self-hate. He had grown quite fond of the other man within the past half hour, but if he didn’t cut it out soon, Castiel was going to hit him. “Someone like me?” he scoffed, “Don’t I get a say in this? We’re soul mates, Dean. We’re _going_ to fall in love, and if you’re too much of a coward to stick around when that happens, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dean’s head snapped up then, and Castiel knew he had hit a nerve. _Good._ “You are sure as hell not running away now, not when we’ve _just_ found each other, you got that? No fucking way. I won’t let you.”

Castiel took Dean’s hands into his and planted quick kisses on his knuckles. Dean visibly relaxed, but his eyes were filled with caution, like he didn’t want to believe for a second that good things _did_ happen, sometimes. He watched as Dean tried to figure out how to respond, biting his lip and avoiding Castiel’s gaze. He was staring at their hands, instead. 

With a heavy sigh, Dean finally spoke up. 

“I’m a horrible boyfriend,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m impatient, and irrational, and –.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” replied Castiel, pulling their hands apart. His mouth curled up into a mischievous smile. “Who said anything about boyfriends?”

Dean looked completely caught off guard, which satisfied Castiel. He got up and made his way toward the doors that lead back inside.  

“You haven’t even asked me out on a date. Unless you count that night at the diner, but if that was your idea of a date, then maybe I should just decline to the next one now.” 

Castiel walked back inside and made his way to their room, smirking the entire time. He liked Dean, he really did, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for him, and Dean seemed like the type who enjoyed the chase. Also, seeing as Dean was drop dead gorgeous 99% of the time, Castiel needed some sort of upper hand if they were ever going to be a functional… thing. _Item? Couple?_ Labels complicated things, so Castiel decided they’d do without, for now. When he heard fast-paced footsteps behind him, he smiled. 

_ I’ve got you now, Winchester.  _

“Hey, wait!” Dean called, catching up to Castiel as he unlocked their door and stepped into the room. Once Dean was inside, Castiel turned around to face him, arms crossed once more. 

“Yes?” he asked, and Dean still looked a bit disorientated, and it took everything Castiel had to keep himself from laughing and kissing him again because Dean was just _so damn cute_ when he was confused. 

“Okay, look, the diner thing was _not_ a date,” Dean emphasized, “I mean, I hit on your sister.”

Castiel made a face. 

“…Let’s not talk about that,” Dean corrected. “But if it was a date, it would not have gone the way it did. I would have looked nicer, for one.” He stuck his pointer finger in the air, followed by his middle, “Second, I would have hit on you so hard those pale cheeks of yours would be permanently red –.”

“I doubt that,” Castiel butt in, eyebrows raised. “I’m not some girl you picked up at a bar, Dean; I’m your soul mate. Your half-assed attempts at flirting will not work so well on me.” 

And there was that look again – bewilderment. Castiel could probably spend hours coming up with things to say that would cause Dean to make that face, but he didn’t want to seem too cruel, so he let himself smirk.

Dean’s wide eyes narrowed immediately. “Son of a bitch,” he said in realization, “you’re playing me, aren’t you?”

“Oh no,” Castiel replied, still smirking, “I’m being completely serious. I hope you didn’t expect me to make this easy for you.”

“Well, I thought –.” 

“I’m not just gonna lay down and let you take what’s yours, Winchester – you’re gonna have to work for it.”

And Castiel bit his tongue because he hadn’t meant to sound so suggestive, but it seemed to get Dean’s attention, so he went with it. 

“But you were listing things, were you not?” Castiel asked, “Please, continue.”

Dean shook his head, as if to line his thoughts back up. “Anyway, yeah, uh, third! Thirdly, there would be more contact.”

Castiel cocked an eyebrow, “Contact?” 

“Yeah, you know, face touching, hand holding –.”

“There _was_ hand holding,” Castiel remembered, speaking more to himself than to Dean. 

“There…was?”

“Yeah, yeah, even Benny noticed,” Castiel closed his eyes to visualize it in his mind. “I thought Balthazar had told you embarrassing things about me,” he chuckled, “but you told me not to worry.” He opened his eyes. “Remember?” 

Dean actually concentrated for a bit, and then smiled. “Benny called it.”

“What?”

“When Benny, uh, caught us, I guess, he turned to me and mouthed ‘You like him,’ to which I promptly replied, ‘fuck off’, but,” Dean paused, shaking his head and walking towards his bed, “he was right.” He looked back up at Castiel, who was still standing near the center of the room. “I did like you. I _do_ like you.”

Castiel could already feel his cheeks heating up, so he turned to sit down on his own bed, thinking of something to say, but all he could think was _well I like you, too, dammit, so why aren’t we making out again,_ but he knew better than to initiate anything so late at night. Dean was still tipsy, and things would probably go too far. 

“So,” he heard Dean say, “you basically want me to, uh, woo you?”

“Um,” Castiel had to think. Is that what he wanted? _Of course it is, you idiot._ He was done being rash with his relationships, and this, whatever he and Dean were bound to have, was supposed to last a lifetime, so he was _not_ going to screw it up by moving too quickly. 

“Um…?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied. “Woo me, Dean Winchester.”

Dean bit his lip. “I… I don’t think I know how to do that, exactly…” 

Castiel simply shrugged, he expected no different. He grabbed the towel that was folded on his bed and walked to the bathroom door. “You’ll figure it out,” he said to Dean, winking before he slipped inside and closed the door.  

~

Dean checked his watch. It was 3AM and Cas was showering. _Who showers at this time of night?_ His soul mate, apparently. _Great_ , he thought. _Just one more thing I didn’t know._ How was he supposed to woo this guy? They had only met like, a week ago, and now he had to sweep him off his feet? Dean didn’t get the point of it all, seeing as they were going to end up together somehow anyway, but he didn’t mind too much. The process of falling in love wasn’t something he dwelled on, ever, but he imagined it would be nicer than being forced to suddenly love someone who just so happened to have the same tattoo as you. 

Dean must have passed out before Cas finished showering because he woke up to the sun shining through the window between the beds, right onto his face. Suddenly conscious, his head pounded as he rolled over and covered his face with hands. He immediately regretted getting drunk the night before. The whole Cas thing had sobered him up somewhat, but he still felt like absolute crap as he groaned into his pillow. 

From the other side of the room, he heard Cas laugh, “Hangovers are just the best, aren’t they?”

Dean responded with another groan and heard Cas walk over to the side of the bed nearest to Dean. There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

“Here,” Cas said, and Dean opened an eye. “Drink up.” Cas handed him a water bottle, and Dean rubbed his eyes with his arm before reaching out to grab the bottle. He propped himself up on one elbow before taking a few sips while Cas eyed him curiously. 

Cas was already dressed in khaki’s and a red tee, black vans on his feet.

“Going somewhere?” Dean asked. 

Castiel chuckled and sat down on the edge of Dean’s bed. “I went and got you some breakfast to-go, but it’s probably cold now,” he shrugged. 

Dean raised his eyebrows, taking another quick sip of water. “You got me _breakfast_? I thought I was supposed to be wooing _you?_ ” 

“Oh, you are,” Cas replied, “but you can’t do that while you’re hung over, now, can you?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas, but a smile snuck its way onto his lips. _Cheeky little bastard,_ he thought, gulping down the rest of the water in one go and laying back down. 

“What time is it, anyway?” Dean asked.

“Uh… half past noon?” 

Dean practically bolted off the bed, almost knocking Cas over in the process. _Work._ He worked today. _Shit._

“I have half an hour to get to work!” Dean ripped through the clothes in his closet trying to find something decent to change into. He tossed a faded band t-shirt, some worn jeans, and a clean pair of boxers onto his bed. He turned and leaned down to pick up the pile, then made a mad dash for the shower, throwing the clothes onto the hopefully dry sink top. He considered skipping a shower but he couldn’t walk into work smelling like alcohol. _Talk about unprofessional._ Once he was in the shower, he heard a knock.

“Dean?” 

He heard the door creaked open slightly. “Kind of in a hurry right now, Cas,” he responded, almost mistaking his shampoo bottle for body wash. 

“Dean, I can call Balthazar for you,” Cas sighed. “I can tell him that we’re roommates and I turned your alarm off, as a prank, so you’re gonna be a little late.”

Dean considered this, but Cas had already done so much for him in the past 12 hours, it was reaching a level Dean was a bit uncomfortable with. He rinsed off, slipped his towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. 

“Cas,” he began, and Castiel was still standing at the bathroom door, peeking his head through, genuine concern written all over his face and those _eyes.._. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Cas, no, I’ll be fine, I just have to leave, like, five minutes ago.” 

Cas stood still for a few seconds, then, “Oh! Right, of course, sorry.” He dipped his head out and closed the door. 

Dean threw on his clothes in record time and ran out of the bathroom in search of his keys and wallet. When he found them, he shoved them into his jean pockets and picked up his jacket that had been on the floor beside his bed. When he headed for the door, Cas was standing in front of it, holding out something wrapped in aluminum foil. 

“It’s a breakfast sandwich,” Cas said eagerly. “I can’t imagine your headache is gone yet, but getting a little food in your stomach should help.”

Dean smiled and took the sandwich from Cas’s hands. _God,_ _I really don’t deserve him._ They stood there for a moment, and then Dean leaned in to kiss Cas on the cheek. 

“You’re the best,” Dean whispered into his ear, doing his best to sound flirty, which wasn’t very hard. He moved past Cas, whose eyes had widened in surprise, to get out of the door. “See you later!” he called, jogging down the hall to the staircase that led to the parking lot. Glancing at his watch again he realized that he’d have to break a few speed limits to get to work on time, but the look on Cas’s face was totally worth his time.

~

Dean got to work without any run-ins with the law, and by some miracle, right on time as well.

“Dean! How lovely of you to arrive,” Balthazar greeted him as he walked through the glass door of the music shop.  

“Well, I do work here, don’t I?” Dean responded sarcastically, “I mean, it was a bit of a struggle getting up this morning, but I’m here.”

Balthazar laughed. “I will never understand why college students stay up so late and somehow figure that they will be able to function the next day. Well, unfortunately for you, Saturday is our busiest day.”

Dean groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Oh well, he really needed the money, so he’d take what he got. 

“No problem,” he said, setting his things behind the cashier counter, “I’ll just need to stay awake.”

“There’s a coffee maker in the back,” B pointed in the direction of the storage room with his thumb. “There might be some snacks, too. Feel free to have some.” 

Dean perked up a bit at the mention of food, having already eaten the sandwich from Cas while he drove. “Awesome, thanks!” He made his way to back and spotted the coffee maker on a small counter by the far wall. Above it was a set of cupboards, where he guessed the snacks were stored. The room was about the size of an average bedroom, filled with boxes upon boxes of what he assumed were CD’s, cassettes, and vinyl records. There was a standing piano near one corner of the room, and a guitar leaning against it. _B play’s instruments?_ He shrugged and made his coffee, finding styrofoam cups in one of the cupboards. 

Dean brought the cup of coffee back up to the front counter with him, sipping it slowly so he wouldn’t burn his tongue. He sat up on the stool that was situated behind the counter and pulled out his smart phone, glancing around every now and then to see if any customers needed anything. The place was pretty packed, but mostly with people studying, reading, all while nodding to the music in their headphones, so it was quieter than Dean had expected.  The first few hours were spent helping customers find certain records, ringing up purchases, and changing the music that played from the shop stereo by request. A bit uneventful, but Dean didn’t mind all that much. 

By the time 4 o’clock rolled around, Dean had an hour left, and the store had emptied out, only a couple people left milling around. He was playing a game on his phone when B sauntered over, and Dean raised an eyebrow because this guy was just _weird._  He had almost forgotten that he was Castiel’s cousin. 

“Hello,” he sang. “How goes it?”

“Good,” replied Dean after pausing his game. “I really like the shop. Simple and quiet, which is a nice change, I guess.”  

“That’s good, but I mean _you,_ ” Balthazar pointed. “How are you?”

“Oh! Uh, I’m doing alright,” he responded, trying his best not to sound as awkward as he felt.

“I only bother asking because I know you are new here, so I wanted to make sure you were adjusting.” B smiled. 

_ Ah, so concern runs in the family.  _ “Well thanks, man, I think I’m doing pretty well. I like it here. My little brother seems to like it, too. So, that’s always good, right?” 

“Yes, I’m glad,” Balthazar said, still smiling. Then, with a wink, “any pretty girls in the picture?”

Dean choked out a laugh. _If he only knew._ He and Cas hadn’t discussed whether or not they were going to tell people about their newfound soulmate-ness, so he decided to keep things discrete. “I’ve actually got my eye on a classmate of mine… he’s, uh, my lab partner.”

“He?” B raised his brows but looked amused. “Well, would you like some advice?”

“Do I ever!” Dean practically shouted before he could stop himself, which got him a laugh from B. “Sorry, I’m just,” Dean made a hopeless gesture with his hands, “I’m at a total loss when it comes to the art of wooing.”

“Ah, my friend, you’re in luck!” Balthazar quipped, “I am practically Da Vinci when it comes to wooing.”

Dean chuckled. “Well then, _please_ share your wisdom. I am in desperate need.”

“First off,” Balthazar began, “flowers and candy are universally acceptable romantic gifts.” He began walking around the shop, speaking up so Dean could still hear him. “I don’t care how manly a man is, if his partner gets him flowers, it’s totally appreciated.”

Dean thought about that for a second, and was inclined to agree. 

“Second – intimacy.”

There was a pause, and Dean looked up from his phone. “Intimacy…? What, that’s all?”

“Yes,” Balthazar continued rearranging some CD’s as he spoke. “Standing close, sweet nothings whispered in public, short yet meaningful glances, private smiles – intimacy. Make them feel special, and you’re already halfway to winning their heart.” 

“Hmm,” Dean mused over the idea, and it seemed easy enough. 

“Thirdly, and this is crucial,” he emphasized, turning to face Dean, “physical contact.”

Dean tilted his chin up in question. “So, I have to get touchy feely, or…?”

“No, you dimwit,” B shook his head, “just, like, friendly physical contact that lasts longer than it should. That way, it’s clear that you want to be more than friends.”

Dean must have still looked confused because Balthazar sighed. 

“Okay, like, if you were to touch his hands, rub your fingers on his skin for a few seconds. Or, brush his hair out of his face, but do it delicately and slowly… Am I making any sense?” 

Dean shrugged. “Somewhat?”

B mumbled something that sounded like _damn Americans_ and _the youth these days_ before asking, “Wait, does this boy happen to have his… ya know… yet?”

Dean immediately registered that Balthazar was asking about a tattoo. Essentially, he was asking if they knew if they were a match or not. “Yeah,” Dean started, and B put up a hand.

“No need for details, it’s not my business.” Then he grinned. “Regardless, my advice is immaculate, and if he’s not head over heels in a few weeks then he’s just not into you.” 

_ Oh, he’s into me,  _ Dean thought. He decided he would try out some of Balthazar’s so-called _immaculate_ advice when he got off work later. 

“Thanks, B,” Dean sighed. _Well, this should be fun._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the wooing begin!

Castiel was doing his homework when Dean walked into their room. 

“Hello, Dean,” he said, glancing in his direction. Dean reached up to ruffle Castiel’s hair, to which Castiel made a face of slight discomfort, and then Dean smoothed it back.

“Hey,” he responded, smiling. Castiel rolled his eyes and kept working. _What was that about?_

He could hear Dean rummaging through his closet and assumed he was changing his clothes. “Hey, Cas?” 

“Yeah?” Castiel answered, still facing the laptop in front of him.

“Do you, uh, wanna grab dinner? At the diner?” 

Castiel actually laughed at that, and turned to face Dean, who had thrown on a dark blue plaid button-up over his t-shirt, and replaced his faded jeans with a tighter, newer pair. _Wow._ He stopped laughing. _Upper hand, Castiel, upper hand._ He shook his head and plastered on a smirk. “Trying to redeem ourselves, are we?” he asked.

Dean simply shrugged. “You want me to woo you, so I’m taking you out. Come on now, chop chop hot stuff.” 

“Hot stuff?” Castiel repeated, raising an eyebrow as he shut his laptop. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

“Shut up,” Dean shot back, voice cloaked in false annoyance. 

Castiel threw his hands up in surrender, “I’m just saying.” He went to his wardrobe and grabbed a black v-neck, and after some thought, he fished out a grey cardigan. 

“Gimmie a minute,” he told Dean as he made his way into their bathroom. He changed quickly, and then examined himself in the mirror. He looked good, but not so good that it would seem as if he was trying too hard. He was not the chaser here, he was the chased, and he planned of making sure Dean did almost all the work. _For now, at least_. 

He wet his hands and passed them through his hair, running his fingers in an upward sweep in an attempt to style it. He shook his hands out and sighed, then smiled. _Dean Winchester is taking me out._ He realized that he was actually happy, like sincerely happy. It was odd, feeling nervous in a good way, but he wasn’t complaining. 

There was a knock on the door, “Dude, come on, we’re burnin’ daylight!”

“I’m practically finished, Dean, calm yourself,” Castiel responded through the closed door. His hand was on the silver knob when Dean began speaking again.

“I mean it’s not like we’re not having brunch at Buckingham Palace, so I don’t understand what’s taking you so –.”

Castiel opened the door wide. “Hmm?” He opened his arms, inviting Dean to voice his opinion. 

Dean stared for a long moment, as if debating what to say. Finally, he placed a fist over his mouth and coughed, and then, “Well, I would comment on your hair, but I would probably say something sexual and dirty, and I’m thinking we’re not at that point in our relationship yet.

_ Well, at least he’s not subtle, _ Castiel thought _._ When Castiel didn’t say anything, Dean continued. “I will say, though, that the cardigan is quite becoming on you.” He reached up to smooth a non-existent wrinkle on Castiel’s shoulder, and then proceeded to run his hand down the length of Castiel’s arm, slowly, delicately, stopping just above his wrist for a second, lightly tickling the skin above his radial pulse with his thumb before retracting. 

If Castiel shivered, Dean didn’t mention it. 

“You ready to go?” he asked sweetly, and Castiel wanted to punch him and kiss him, in that order.

“I – yes? Yes. Let’s go.” 

~

This time, when they got to the Impala and Dean opened the door for Cas, he didn’t comment. 

He only smiled. 

~

“Is your friend Benny working today?” Castiel asked Dean once they were inside the small diner.

“Um…” Dean began, looking around. Then he pointed, “Yup! Right over there.”

Benny was serving another table when he turned to walk back to the kitchen and spotted Dean and Castiel. He grinned wildly. 

“You guys are back already? I’ll take it the first date went well?” He said to Dean with a wink. 

Dean made a face that said _Unbelievable!_ and shook his head. “That was _not_ date, man. This, on the other hand,” he gestured between Castiel and himself, “is.” 

Benny raised an eyebrow and looked at Castiel for confirmation, and Castiel shrugged, and decided to be cute about this, because really, it was an opportunity to drive Dean crazy. He put on his most childlike face, and said, “Who could say no to those eyes?” 

This made Benny grin even wider, and Dean cough uncomfortably. _Strike one._

“Well then, I’ll lead you to your table,” Benny said, walking towards the row of booths against the windows. Castiel was about to start moving when he felt a firm hand on his back, on the _small of his back,_ and realized that Dean was leading him to the table, giving him a light shove to get his feet moving. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, but Dean ignored him, a look of innocence on his face. _So this is how he’s going to play it._

Forcing out a breath, Castiel calmed himself. It felt like he was preparing for battle, and he and Dean were one for one. This was definitely going to be an interesting evening. 

Castiel was glad Anna was not working that day.

“Here ya go,” said Benny, moving aside so Dean and Castiel could sit down across from each other. “You boys behave now,” he continued, pointing his finger like a father would to his child, “and Dean, no funny business.”

Dean smirked, “I’m _always_ on my best behavior.” Hearing this, Castiel chuckled, but Benny outright laughed, and Dean’s smirk fell. 

“Dude,” he said solemnly, “come on.” 

Benny must have realized he was upsetting Dean, because he apologized and stifled his laughter. He handed them their menus, saying he’d be back in a few before leaving them to tend to other customers. 

Both Castiel and Dean skimmed over their menus, and Castiel wondered if he should order one drink with two straws, but he thought Dean might find that extremely girly. He worried about ordering anything with too much garlic, because what if Dean decided to kiss him? He couldn’t taste like garlic if Dean was going to kiss him! 

Castiel must have looked tense, because suddenly Dean’s hand covered his own, thumb stroking his knuckles. He looked up and caught green eyes, and his heart jumped to his throat. 

“Hey,” Dean almost whispered, “relax, okay? You’re making _me_ nervous.” Dean smiled, that pure, genuine smile of his, and Castiel felt his muscles unwind instantly. 

“You _should_ be nervous,” he responded wittily, but he didn’t move his hand, and neither did Dean. Not until Benny walked towards them, at least. 

“You kids ready to order?” 

Dean looked at Castiel, who nodded. “I’ll have the Soup of the Day, with a lettuce bowl side.” Castiel said. That sounded like a safe enough choice. 

“Drink?” Benny asked, scribbling on the notepad in his hand. 

“Wa –.” Castiel started, but stopped when he felt what he assumed was Dean’s foot sliding up the inside of his left leg. _Is he seriously playing footsie right now?_

He looked up at Dean, who was smirking, then back up at Benny, who had cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Castiel cleared his throat. 

“Water, please,” he said quickly, resisting the urge to squirm as Dean’s foot moved higher and toward his thigh. 

“And what would you like, Dean-o?” Benny asked, turning to Dean. Dean kept his eyes on Castiel as he ordered two slices of cheese pizza and cherry pie. 

Once Benny was out of sight, Castiel kicked at Dean’s other leg. “ _What_ are you doing?!” He whispered, trying to sound angry, but failing. 

Dean lowered his foot and shrugged, “Teasing you?”

Castiel scoffed. “Wow.” He shook his head and crossed his arms. 

Dean made a disappointed noise. “Oh, come on, Cas, I was just having a bit of fun!”

“Mmhmm,” Castiel responded, looking out the window. The sun was setting and the sky was almost golden in color. It reminded him of how Dean’s eyes glowed in direct sunlight. _Damn him._

“Cas? Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaas,” Dean dragged out, and Castiel could hear the smirk in his voice. “Come on, beautiful, look at me.”

And Castiel looked at him because _did he just call me ‘beautiful’?_ Before he could comment, Dean continued. 

“Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are?” 

Castiel huffed out a laugh. “Yes, Dean, a few people have mentioned –.”

“I could drown in them.” Dean interrupted.

“You what?” 

“I could drown in them, your eyes. They’re so damn blue.” Dean tilted his head, as if trying to see Castiel from a better angle. “They’re…stunning.”

Dean smiled, leaning back in his seat. “You’re stunning.”

And Castiel would never admit that he was flustered, but it may have been obvious by the way he averted his gaze to the silverware in front of him, rubbing his hands together to keep them from reaching out and grabbing Dean’s face to kiss him. 

“I, uh,” he bit his lower lip, “thanks, Dean.” He let a smile creep onto his lips, and Dean practically beamed with triumph. 

Castiel threw his hands up, full out grinning now. “Yeah, yeah, you got me. Happy?”

“Very,” Dean said with a wink. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: INTENSE FLUFF FOLLOWED BY INTENSE ANGST. This was my favorite chapter to write. PREPARE YOUR EMOTIONS! <3

Dean was excited. The night was going pretty well so far, and he had a lot more planned. Hopefully, it would be enough to sweep Cas right off his feet.

Dean had called Benny on his way back from work, told him about his mission to woo Cas. Benny had given him grief about it, of course, but in the end, he happily obliged to help. _About time you found someone willing to give you the benefit of the doubt,_ he’d said mid-laughter, and Dean had called him a bitch before explaining what he needed him to do.

When Benny made his way back over to their booth and Cas’s eyes widened at the sight of a dozen blue colored roses, Dean grinned, wide and proud. They were perfect. _Just like Cas._

“Oh my god… Dean?” Cas asked, mesmerized, as Benny placed the clear, thin vase near the end of the table. He was smiling, but said nothing, winking at Dean when he placed their orders in front of them and practically skipped away. 

“You like ‘em?” Dean asked, surprised to find his voice cracking. He hadn’t realized he was so nervous. 

Cas reached up to touch the petals of the roses softly with his fingertips. He tugged at one of the stems, pulling out a rose, careful not to prick himself on any thorns. He looked it over, spinning it between his fingers before lifting the rose to his face and sniffing. He smiled up at Dean, and Dean got a funny feeling in his stomach. _Is this what getting butterflies feels like?_

“They’re beautiful.” Cas replied, looking blissful. “And they’re…blue?” 

“Yeah,” Dean started, “you know, dyed blue, but yeah. I asked for blue ones to –.”

“To match my eyes?” Cas guessed, and Dean laughed nervously. 

“Is that cheesy?”

“Yes!” Cas practically yelled, but he was still laughing. “And I thought _I_ was the girly one, here.”

“Oh, you are,” Dean responded, placing a fork in his pie. “I’m just…accommodating.” 

He was looking down, so he didn’t see Cas lean forward and reach a hand across the table to tip Dean’s chin up for a kiss. 

It was short and chaste, but Dean loved it anyway. 

“Thank you,” Cas said quietly, their lips close. Dean craned his neck to catch Cas’s lips again, his kiss a little less chaste, and Cas let out a soft chuckle as he pulled away and sat back down. 

“You woo’d yet?”

Cas rolled his eyes, twirling the rose he held between his fingers. “I’m smitten,” he said, smiling. “But one date isn’t going to make me fall in love with you, Dean.”

“Oh, I know,” Dean said, mouth half full of pizza. “That’s why I’ve got another one lined up for tonight.”

“What? Tonight?” Cas asked, surprised, almost dropping his spoon back into his bowl of soup. 

Dean smirked, but didn’t bother looking up. “Yep. Unless you have other plans with someone else…” 

Cas scoffed. “You’re my soul mate, Dean. There’s no one else for me.” 

That made Dean look up, only to see Castiel’s smiling face, and he felt his heart melt a little. “Yeah,” he said, “uh, yeah, tonight then.” He picked up his second slice of pizza. “Hurry up and eat so we can go!”

“Okay, okay,” Cas laughed, finishing his soup and starting on his salad. “Bossy.”

“Damn right,” Dean mumbled, smiling. He was psyched. He almost couldn’t believe their first official date was going so well, and it wasn’t even halfway over yet. When they finally finished their food, Dean asked Benny for the tab but he waved him off.

“On the house,” he said, grinning. “Just don’t screw up the date. I like this Cas of yours.” 

“I won’t!” Dean promised, shoving Benny away from their booth. 

“I like Benny, as well,” Cas said thoughtfully. 

“I’m glad,” Dean replied, “but come on, blue eyes, we’ve got a whole second half of this date to continue.” Dean got up and grasped the neck of the flower vase with one hand, balancing it by placing his other hand at its base. 

“Blue eyes, huh?” Cas asked, eyebrow raised as he slid out of the booth.

Dean felt his cheeks heat. “Sorry, it just slipped out, it’s…” he paused. “It’s better than hot stuff, though, right?”

Cas huffed a laugh, opening the door for Dean on their way out of the diner, and Dean noticed that Cas was still holding the one rose in his hand. 

“Yes, much better,” Cas responded a moment later. “I like it.” 

“Really?” Dean asked. He had expected Cas to make fun of him for using such a girly pet name. 

Cas only shrugged, scuffing his Vans across the pavement of the parking lot. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s what?” Dean had heard Cas, of course. He just liked making Cas nervous. It was absolutely adorable. 

Cas stopped near the passenger side of the Impala and looked up at Dean, who had just dug his keys out of his pocket. 

“It’s cute,” he said louder, shoulders slumping. “You’re cute, okay? Happy?” 

Dean couldn’t help but grin. “Get in the car,” he told Cas, pulling open his own door to sit down. Cas did the same, and Dean placed the flowers down on the floor behind the passenger seat. 

“I don’t understand wh- .” Cas began, but his words were cut off by Dean’s mouth on his own, his hands cupping his face. _Damn,_ Dean thought. Castiel was _delicious._ He felt Cas’s hands at his wrists and pulled his face back a few inches. 

Cas’s face was flushed pink. “Well, that was pleasant surprise,” he said, breaking the silence. He lips curled into a charming smile, and the only word that came to Dean’s mind was _beautiful._

“You’re killin’ me, Novak,” Dean chuckled, releasing his grip on Cas’s face to shift the car into drive. 

“I’m killing _you?”_ Cas responded, incredulous. “I don’t even know where we’re going! You could be driving me to some sort of slaughterhouse for all I know.”

Dean shook his head, pulling onto the main road. “I think you’ve watched one too many horror movies, Cas.” 

“I’ve never finished any, though. Too much violence, and gore, and all the blood and guts –.” 

“Hey, hey, I _just_ ate!” Dean yelled playfully. “Spare me the details; I know how horror movies go.” 

“Are you a fan? Oh no, is that what we’re doing next, a horror movie? If so, I’ll pass, please.”

Dean laughed, “No, ya baby, we’re not seeing a movie.”

“Then where are we headed?”

“You’ll see,” Dean winked. He was driving a few miles out of town to a park that overlooked a lake. He had heard that they were doing some sort of fireworks show over the lake that night, and thought it would be a romantic way to spend time with Cas. He wasn’t a big fan of romance, but he loved fireworks, and as much as he didn’t want to think about it, one day he would love Cas. _If I don’t already._ He shook his head. He couldn’t, not yet, it was way too early on. Wasn’t it? 

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asked from the passenger side. 

They were at a red light, so Dean turned to look at Cas. “Hmm?” 

“You were shaking your head…second thoughts already?”

“What? No!” Dean turned back to the road when traffic started moving again. “No,” he repeated. “You?”

He caught Cas shaking his head in his peripheral vision. “No.”

He smiled. “Awesome.” 

~

If he hadn’t known Dean was his soul mate, Castiel would have thought that he and Dean were moving too quickly. They had kissed multiple times already, and Dean had ordered a damn _bouquet of roses_ for him, colored to match the hue of his eyes! To his surprise, he had no desire to ridicule Dean about how overboard he was going about their relationship; frankly, he enjoyed being woo’d. It was nice, knowing that he and Dean were meant to end up together anyway.

Castiel bit his thumbnail in a failed attempt to stop the smile on his face from erupting into a full out grin. He was happy, _too_ happy, especially since he had no clue where Dean was taking him. Less than ten minutes had passed in comfortable silence before Castiel grew impatient.

“Dean, come on,” he began.

“What?” Dean asked, chuckling.

“Can you please tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

Castiel groaned. “Please? The anticipation is killing me, babe, please.”

Dean raised an eyebrow high and glanced at Castiel, who bit his lip because _crap, I called him ‘babe.’_

“I’m , uh, I mean –.” Castiel fumbled, unsure why he was so nervous. Dean had called him _blue eyes_ , for goodness sake. 

Dean only laughed. “Well, now that we’ve established pet names –.”

“Hey,” Castiel cut in, “that was an accident!”

“Nuh uh, cutie, what’s done is done,” Dean said, winking in Castiel’s direction. 

“Cutie? Really? What am I, a schoolgirl now?” He had meant to sound annoyed, but how could he be? The gorgeous Dean Winchester just called him cute!

“Ooo, are you into role playing?” Dean asked, suggestively. 

“Dean!” Cas yelled, blushing. He _was not_ into role playing, and planned on keeping it that way. 

“What?” said Dean, incredulous. “Could be fun?”

“Absolutely not,” Cas replied quickly. 

Dean laughed again, “Fine, party pooper.” He stuck out his tongue before pulling into a parking spot by the large city park that overlooked a lake. The sun was setting, and the sky glowed with a violet tint. 

“We’re here!” Dean exclaimed, checking his watch and bolting out of the car. He ran to Castiel’s side and opened the door for him. 

Castiel stepped out gingerly, looking around. “A park?” 

Dean only smiled. He closed the car door and took Castiel by the hand, entwining their fingers. Castiel didn’t complain. Dean led them to a small bridge that connected two sides on the park and overlooked the lake. The sun had already moved a little lower in the sky, violet melting into navy blue. 

They stood together near the center of the bridge. There were other couples standing around, as well as parents with their children and small groups of friends. They all seemed to be waiting for something. 

Castiel turned to Dean, “So, what are we –.”

“Shhh,” Dean whispered, putting a finger to Castiel’s lips. Then he maneuvered himself behind Castiel, so his back was to Dean’s chest. Dean placed his arms around Castiel’s waist. “Just wait,” he whispered in his ear, and Castiel felt as if he would melt, so he shut up and wait. _Always with that damn mouth._

He had just relaxed against Dean when he jumped, startled by the sudden loud sound of crackling and explosives that soared into the sky. 

Fireworks. 

“Dean,” he gasped, mesmerized by the bursts of color above his head. Dean had taken him to see fireworks. Freakin’ fireworks! _I think I’m in love._

He felt Dean’s breath on his neck as he laughed, “You like?”

“I…” Cas was speechless. He placed his hands on top of Dean’s, whose hands were still wrapped around him. The fireworks were going off faster now, and the sky was filled with an impressive show of lights. Laughter and applause surrounded them, but all Cas could think about was _Dean, Dean, fucking fireworks,_ and _Dean._

“Yes,” Cas finally said, too happy to think of anything more. 

Dean dropped a kiss on his shoulder before resting his chin there. “Good.” 

~

Dean didn’t think he could get any happier if he tried. His plan had worked out perfectly, and everything had gone according to plan. After the fireworks display, they had driven back to campus, holding hands between their seats. During the drive, Dean had lifted Cas’s hand to kiss the back of it, and Cas had bitten his lip while his cheeks flushed, and Dean swore it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen. 

“We’re not having sex tonight,” Cas said abruptly when they got back into their room. 

“I wasn’t going to ask!” Dean defended, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about that. 

“Just thought I’d be clear, in case you got any ideas,” Cas replied, teasing smile on his lips.

Dean glared at Cas for a second before taking two large strides and manhandling him against their closed door. He slammed himself against Cas, their teeth knocking as he kiss him, deep and bruising. Cas laughed and squirmed at first, protesting the lustful ambush, but seemed to melt under Dean’s rough hands when he slipped them under Cas’s cardigan and thin shirt. Cas’s skin was incredibly soft, and Dean felt the slight texture difference when his hands reached the edges of his tattoo.

Although, it was more likely that he heard Cas’s desperate moan first, as his fingers brushed over the ink. 

Cas locked his hands in Dean’s hair and pulled as Dean dipped his head to plant short kisses on Cas’s jaw line and collarbone, hands moving to unbutton the cardigan and get it out of the way. Once it was off, Dean pulled his face up to look at Cas, gauging his reaction, asking permission.

Blue eyes stared into green, blown dark, with only a thin rim of cobalt left to encircle Cas’s dilated pupils. His lips were swollen pink, and when Cas licked them, Dean couldn’t help but lean back in for another long kiss. After a minute, though, Cas pulled away first.

“Dean,” he huffed out, somewhat out of breath.  

“Yeah, babe?” Dean asked flirtatiously. 

Cas laughed, “You know, I was serious when I said we’re not having sex.”

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Dean responded, sarcasm heavy in his tone. That got him a slap in the arm. “Ow!”

“I’m serious!” Cas whined, then he placed his palms on Dean’s face. “We belong to each other, Dean. We’re it. We’ve got our whole live to sex each other up.” Cas shrugged, “It can wait, can’t it? Can we just…enjoy this? How it is now?”  

Dean blinked, and then smiled. Of course it could wait. Hopefully, not too long, but it could wait. _He_ could wait. He planted a chaste kiss on Cas’s lips before pulling away completely. 

“You’re gonna make me crazy,” Dean teased.

“And you’re gonna make me fall in love,” Cas crooned, effortlessly.  

Dean’s knees grew weak. It sounded almost too good to be true. 

Which is why he wasn’t too surprised when they had the first real argument a week later. 

It was Sunday. On Thursday, Professor Crowley had assigned a biology project for each student to prepare with their partners. It sounded simple enough – pick a chapter from the unit they were studying, and present a PowerPoint, along with a report analyzing a specific aspect of that chapter. 

Cas was currently shaking Dean awake, repeating something about Dean had agreed to work on the project today, but Dean had no recollection of agreeing to anything like that. The project wasn’t due until Tuesday, why couldn’t they work on it on Monday?

“Cas, quit it!” Dean groaned, hitting Cas’s hands away. 

“You need to get up, it’s already noon! We have to get to the library and-.” 

Dean interrupted by groaning again. “It’s not due until Tuesday, man! I don’t see why we need to do it today.”

Cas took a steadying breath, and Dean cracked an eye open to see him pinching the bridge of his nose. He sat up. 

“I have other things to do, Dean,” Cas said slowly. “I need to get this assignment out of the way so I can work on the other million and one things I have due this week!”

“Oh, come on, Cas, how many things could you possibly have to do?”

“A lot, okay?” Cas threw his hands up. “You know, not all of us are taking the minimum amount of credits.” 

“Oh, so now you’re calling me lazy?” Dean stood up, sleep gone from his eyes. As much as he liked Cas, or even loved him (maybe? already?), he was not about to take bullshit from him. He couldn’t _afford_ to take anything more than the minimum.

“I mean, you sleep in until three in the afternoon sometimes. How do you get anything done like that?”

“Since when is that any of your business?” Dean snapped, “Just because we’re soul mates doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do with my life!”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do!”

“Sure seems like it!”

“God, Dean, this project is a big part of our grade!”

“And I can work on it, _tomorrow.”_

“No, you- !” Cas held up a hand. “You know what? Forget about it, okay? Go back to sleep, I’ll just work on it myself.” He picked up his laptop and stuffed it into his bag with his books. Dean watched him, unsure of what to say. 

“Cas,” he began, but Cas walked out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Dean flinched at the sound before his anger lit up like a flame. He wanted to kick something, but he wasn’t wearing shoes. “Dammit!” he yelled, frustrated, with himself for letting Cas leave like that, and with Cas for getting so worked up over something so trivial. _What’s his deal?_ He fished around his bed sheets for his phone. When he found it, he texted Benny. 

Dean: You off today?

Benny didn’t take long to respond.

Benny: Yeah, you?

Dean: Need a drink. Or 12.

Benny: LOL, you got it. Something wrong?

Dean: Cas…

Benny: Trouble in paradise? 

Dean scoffed. Of course, Benny would want the details of his current misery.

Dean: Dude, come on. 

Benny: Ok ok, pick you up at 4. Eat something so you don’t barf all over my truck. 

Dean: Haha, will do. Thnx man.

Benny: Np, brotha.

Dean sighed. He hated that he could only handle his problems with drinking, but what the hell? He was pissed, and he needed to mellow out. The only way he knew to do that was to get piss drunk. He decided to shower before he headed to the dining hall and grab some grub to go. Then he would crash until Benny came to pick him up. 

_ Great plan, ya fuckup. Just great. _

~

Castiel couldn’t concentrate. He had expected as much, since he was angry, but it irked him nonetheless. He had managed to halfass the PowerPoint, jotting down notes on flashcards to go with each slide, but now he stared at a blank document. The report was not as easy to write as he assumed it would be. He really could use Dean’s help, but refused to text him. _Lazy, selfish prick,_ he thought. 

But Castiel was slowly falling in love with that lazy, selfish prick of his, and it only made him feel worse. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so upset. 

“Ugh,” he groaned aloud, and a librarian arranging books on a shelf beside him shushed him. He was on the silent floor.

“Sorry,” he whispered, laying his head down on his arms in front of him. His head ached and he wondered if he was hungry, but he didn’t want to get up and have someone steal his spot, or his stuff, so he ignored the growling sound his stomach made every half hour. 

Between fighting his hunger, falling asleep, and checking his phone multiple times for some sort of message from Dean (which never happened), Castiel cranked out the report, making sure to add Dean’s name to the top of the page, next to his own. He looked at their names. _Novak. Winchester. Castiel Winchester. Dean Novak?_ He shook his head. Why was he thinking about marriage at a time like this? Clearly, he was exhausted. He began to pack up his things and checked his watch when he noticed how dark it was outside of the windows near him. The numbers 8:59 flashed up at him. 

_ How the hell is it already this late? No wonder I’m fucking starving.  _ With a sigh, Cas made his way down three flights of stairs and out the front doors of the library. He had taken the long way there, through the campus buildings, trying to burn off some steam, but it was cooler now, and he wanted to get to bed as soon as possible. He made his way toward the back of the building and started walking on the outer edge of campus, next to one of the main roads. The streetlights were dim, and Castiel wondered whether it was the state or the school who was in charge of changing those bulbs. 

Suddenly, Castiel heard footsteps behind him. They came out of nowhere, it seemed, but followed him at a steady pace. He grasped the strap of his messenger bag tighter, and pulled his phone out of the zipped front pocket, holding it in one hand. 

At first, he thought himself silly. He had always been a little paranoid. Gabe and Anna teased him about it relentlessly when they were younger. But then, one set of footsteps became two or three, and Castiel was afraid to turn around. Why were these people following him? Had he done something wrong? Or were they just playing a prank on him? _We’re too old for pranks,_ he reasoned. 

He decided to walk a little faster, not too far from his dorm now, but the footsteps sped up as well, and when he heard voices, laughing as they came up behind him, Castiel was in a full on panic. He unlocked his phone and called Dean, but before he could put the phone to his ear, it was knocked out of his hand as he was pushed to the ground. He let out a yelp as he hit the cement, terrified and confused and helpless.

“P-please,” he sputtered, as hands ripped his bag away from him.

“Shut up!” one voice yelled back, hushed, as to not draw attention from anyone close by. But there was no one close by. No one to help Castiel as he was kicked, repeatedly, then picked up and thrown against the metal gate that enclosed one side of campus. His phone lay there as well, and Castiel could tell it had gone to voicemail. When he reached for it, a foot landed on his hand, and he must have screamed when he felt the bones in his hand crack because someone else had stuffed a rag in his mouth. _Where is Dean?_

He tried to see the men who were hurting him, but he couldn’t make out their faces. A third person kicked him so hard in his abdomen, he was certain he had broken a rib. Castiel had no idea what this was happening to him, or what he had done to become a target for these men. He also didn’t understand why they didn’t just rob him and go. Why did they have to beat him up, too? _Why didn’t Dean pick up?_

His head throbbed and he could hardly breathe. The men laughed as he struggled to move, clutching his middle with one arm, unable to move his broken hand. He managed to spit out the rag, though, and let out a scream, as loud as he could, hoping someone, anyone would hear him. _Maybe Dean will hear me._

Castiel’s eyes were only half open, but he saw a foot swinging toward his face before everything went black. His final conscious thought consisted of nothing but _Dean, Dean, PleasesavemeDean._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets some unfortunate news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently, the last chapter was a little painful? (I'M SORRY, I HAVE A THING ABOUT ANGST. I REALLY LIKE IT OK.) Here's the next part (sorry it's a little short), but I must warn you, it isn't much happier. <333333333333333

Dean’s head was throbbing when Benny dropped him off at his dorm early the next morning. 

“I’m an idiot,” he said aloud, sitting in the passenger’s seat of Benny’s truck. He heard Benny laugh beside him.

“Sure are, Deanno. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna head back to my apartment and clean up your mess before I sleep in until noon.”

Dean snapped out of his trance. “Oh, man, I’m really sorry about -.”

Benny held up a hand. “Hey, I offered. It’s no problem, brotha’.” He smiled. “What are friends for?”

Dean sighed, relieved that Benny wasn’t angry. He had gotten so drunk the night before, he hardly remembered what happened, but when he woke up that morning, his phone was dead, he wished he was dead, and Benny’s living room was trashed. 

“No chick flick moments, man,” Dean chided. “I have class in a couple hours, so I have time to shower off the alcohol.” 

“And…?” Benny asked, awaiting a reply.

“And apologize to Cas for being an absolute imbecile, yeah yeah yeah,” Dean finished quickly, opening the car door and waving Benny off before closing it again. 

“Atta boy,” Benny chucked. “Good luck!” 

After Benny drove away, Dean walked past his baby in the parking lot and leaned on the hood. It was early, and the morning air held the slightest trace of autumn. Suddenly, he remembered that he’d left Cas’s blue roses in the back of the car, and pulled out his keys. _Dammit._ He walked over to the back door and pulled it open, reaching down to grab the vase by its neck. Most of the roses had wilted, but a few of them were somehow still in good shape. After closing the door and locking the Impala, Dean made his way up to his room. He moved slowly and quietly, as to not wake Cas, but when he tiptoed inside, Cas wasn’t there. 

“Hmm,” Dean hummed, checking the bathroom. _Maybe he had an early class today?_ Dean checked Cas’s desk, and his bag was gone. He shrugged, placed the vase on Cas’s dresser, then plugged his phone into its charger on his bedside table. He stripped out of his clothes to take a long shower. As the water sprayed down onto his back, he leaned his head against the tile. _Who gets shitfaced on a Sunday night?_

After standing in the shower for what seemed like ages, Dean stepped out, rubbing a towel through his hair before drying off his body. Before he could stop in front of the mirror, he heard his phone ringing. 

_ Maybe it’s Cas,  _ he thought, rushing out of the bathroom to grab his phone. Castiel’s name appeared on the screen, and Dean felt a mixture of relief and nervousness. He picked up.

“Cas, hey, look, I’m really so-.”

“Is this Dean Winchester?” A strange voice asked, a woman, and Dean tensed. _What the hell?_

“Yes? Who the hell is this?” Had Cas gone off with some chick for the night? Dean’s head swam with possibilities and he felt himself clenching his fists.

“My name is Sheriff Mills. Now, this phone was located near a crime scene where a young man was found a couple hours ago. Your number seems to be the last one dialed, so I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

_ Wait, what? Sheriff? Crime scene?  _ Dean sat down on his bed. What the hell was this woman going on about? 

“Questions about what? Did something happen? Is Cas okay?” Dean asked, frantic. _Cas called?_ He hadn’t heard his phone…but then again, he had been drunk, and then his phone died. _Fuck._

“Castiel Novak? So you do know him?” the Sheriff asked.

“Of course I know him, we’re-!” Dean paused, wondering if he should even mention what they were. Was he a suspect? “He’s my roommate,” Dean said, trying to stay calm. “We’re roommates.”

“Oh, alright,” said Sheriff Mills, and Dean heard a pen scratching paper over the phone. “May I ask where you were last night?” 

_ Shit.  _ “I was at a friend’s-.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

_ I’m a fucking suspect.  _ “Yes, Benny Lafitte, what the hell is going on?” 

The Sheriff sighed and Dean’s body tensed. He’d watched enough television to know that he wasn’t about to get any good news. 

“Sheriff?” he asked, slight whimper in his voice. Dean cleared his throat and asked, “Is he…?”

“Mr. Novak is alive, as far as I know,” Sheriff Mills responded, “but he’s in bad shape. I can’t discuss details, because this is an ongoing investigation, but we got a call about a student unconscious on the edge of the college campus, and the paramedics rushed him to the hospital after confirming a pulse… Hello?”

Dean had put the phone on speaker in order to get dressed as quickly as possible. He threw on the first pair of jeans he could reach and pulled on a plain green shirt. His vision was blurred, and he didn’t realize that there were tears in his eyes until he had to wipe the wetness away with the tips of his fingers. 

“Mr. Winchester, are you there?” 

“Yes, I’m- uh, yes.” Dean said loudly, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket and scrabbling to find his keys. He had to get to Cas. _I have to get to him now._ “Which hospital did you say Cas was at, Sheriff?”

“Mr. Novak was taken to the university hospital, since it was closest-.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Dean said quickly before ending the call. He looked around the room in a panic, keys in hand, trying to remember if he knew how to get to the hospital. _Can I even drive right now?_ Dean was well aware of his hung over state, but that didn’t matter. He was also well aware that he had classes to attend, but that didn’t matter either. He needed to get to Cas. All that mattered was Cas. 

_ He’s alive. _

Dean bolted out of the room and headed for the stairs. He realized that he still had no clue what had happened. Had Cas simply passed out? _Then it wouldn’t have been a crime scene, you idiot._ He knew he really shouldn’t drive, but how else was he supposed to get to the hospital? He couldn’t call Benny and drag him into his problems _again._ He could call Sammy, but he didn’t want his little brother to see him like this – a hung over, guilt ridden, anxious mess. He was on his own.

_ This is my fault.  _

Sliding into the impala and shifting into drive, Dean carefully made his way towards the direction of the university hospital. It was located five minutes outside campus, he remembered, but he’d made it there in under two, unsure of how he managed not to get pulled over. 

After parking in the visitor lot, Dean rushed through the main doors of the hospital and toward the reception desk. 

“How may I help you?” the nurse at the desk asked. 

“I’m looking for a patient? Castiel Novak?”

The nurse typed on her computer, and her relaxed expression turned pensive. 

“He’s alive?” Dean asked, feeling desperate. What if he was too late?

“Yes, yes, he’s alive,” the nurse nodded, “but had to have surgery to fix some fractured ribs… Are you family?” 

_ Broken ribs? Had someone hurt Cas?  _ Dean released a sharp breath. “No, not family, but is he alright? Can I see him?” 

The nurse sighed. “I can’t release patient information to anyone who isn’t Mr. Novak’s immediate family.”

“You what?” Dean asked, fists clenching again. “But… please?”

The nurse frowned. “I’m sorry, sir. I wish I co-.”

“I’m his soul mate!” Dean blurted, attracting a few wry glances from other visitors in the waiting area. 

The nurse’s eyes widened. “Oh… Um…” She clicked around her desktop before looking back up at Dean. “There was no one listed in Mr. Novak’s file.”

“That’s because we didn’t get our tattoos until about a month ago,” Dean responded, trying to hide his immense frustration. Wasn’t there a rule about this? Weren’t soul mates considered family? 

“Can you tell me what your tattoo looks like?” the nurse asked in a whisper. “I can call Mr. Novak’s doctor and…confirm that you are soul mates.”

Dean shook his head. _Is this really necessary?_ “Wings. Two large, black wings. On my back.” 

The nurse picked up the phone next to her computer and dialed a short number that Dean assumed was the doctor’s. She spoke so quietly, Dean couldn’t hear a word, but when she hung up, she smiled at him.

“He’s post-op, in the ICU, and from what I can tell, he’s still unconscious. But you can go see him, if you’d like. Room 221.” 

_ Still unconscious. Still unconscious?  _ This was bad. 

“Thank you,” Dean replied with a weak smile. He made his way up the flight of stairs at the center of the hospital, looking for 221. He walked through endless hallways passing one white room after another, until he found it. 221. 

The room was near the end of a hall, where there weren’t too many visitors milling around. He could see a hospital bed from the window of the room. He stood outside the door, hands shaking, and began to pace, back and forth, in an attempt to wear out his selfish anger. _Get in there, god dammit, he could probably die at any minute, and you’re too much of an ass to even see him for one last time –_

“He’s in a coma,” a voice said from close by, and Dean jumped, turning to find a man in a white lab coat standing behind him.

“How subtle of you,” Dean scoffed, statement practically dripping with sarcasm. 

“But he’s stable,” the man, Castiel’s doctor, Dean assumed, continued, “so for now, there’s no need to tread a hole into the floor.” He stuck out his hand. “Dr. Victor Henricksen.”

After a little hesitation, Dean took the man’s hand and shook it as firmly as he could manage. “You’re Cas’s doctor?”

“I performed his surgery – I stabilized his fractured ribs with titanium plates, so they’ll heal less painfully.”

“Good,” Dean answered, “good.” He almost started pacing again, but stopped himself, facing the door. 

“Can I ask you something, Mister…?”

“Dean,” Dean responded, unmoving, “Call me Dean.”

“Dean, then,” Dr. Henricksen said, “you are Castiel’s soul mate, correct?”

Dean was silent for a beat, then took a breath, “Yeah,” he shook his head, staring at his converse shoes. _And a shitty one, at that._

“I was wondering, where is his family? Have they not been contacted?”

That was a good question. Dean hadn’t even thought to find Gabriel’s number and tell him what had happened, or Anna. 

“I’m here because Cas –.” Dean’s chest ached, as he remembered that Cas had called him, _him,_ of all people, while he was, what, getting attacked? Screaming for help? Begging for mercy? Dean cleared his throat. “Castiel’s phone was left at the crime scene, and my number was the last one dialed.”

“Ohhh,” the doctor nodded, understanding. “I see. Well, now that Castiel is stable, I’m going to contact his family. Are you okay here?”

“Yeah,” Dean said roughly, tear ducts threatening to spill over. “I’m good.”

Dr. Henricksen placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “He’s going to be alright, Dean.”

Dean nodded, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would start wailing. After the doctor walked away, Dean took two deep breaths and walked into Cas’s hospital room. 

What he saw floored him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the last chapter killed some people? ^.^ So, by (implied) request, I've decided to spare you all the pain and post a day early.  
> You're welcome, bbys!
> 
> Warning: This chapter is very emotional. I am an angst-junkie.
> 
> (I love you all so much, thank you for reading<3)

Castiel lie flat on his back in the hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines, tubes, and wires that Dean didn’t dare touch. His skin was pale and bruised, and his face was scarred, cut, and bandaged, faint traces of blood still visible. His left hand was wrapped in a cast, and Dean guessed it was broken. He was breathing on his own ( _thank God_ ), but he still looked so vulnerable, so weak, and Dean had to sit down on the padded chair next to the bed before he was thrown into a fit of sobs from sheer guilt. 

“This…this is my fault,” Dean choked out softly; hoping upon hope that Cas could hear him, even if he couldn’t respond. “Cas, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there for you, I didn’t, I’m sorry, so…” he trailed, inhaling deeply and covering his face with his hands. His face was soaked with tears, and Dean tried and failed to stop crying, because how could he? Cas had almost died. _His soul mate_ had almost died.

After about twenty minutes, Dean wiped his face with a tissue from the box on Cas’s bedside table. He scooted his chair forward until he sat close enough that he could lay his head on the bed if he wanted to. Hesitantly, Dean reached for Cas’s hand, which lay, still and cold, at his side. 

It suddenly struck Dean that there was no guarantee that Cas would wake up, and that he could lose him, for good. Forever. 

Desperation hit Dean like a bullet train and he knew then what he would do. He wrapped both of his warm hands around Cas’s cold ones, closed his eyes tight, 

and prayed.

_ Are you there, God? It’s me, Dean Winchester. Now I know it’s been a while, and Mom took me and Sammy to church enough times that I know not to expect a direct answer, but please, if you’re listening, hear me out.  _

Dean sighed, squeezing Cas’s hand for some sort of strength.

_ Could you just, wake Cas up? Please? He doesn’t deserve this, at all! And it’s my fault anyway and if I only picked up the damn phone then maybe… Or if I had just said yes to doing the stupid bio project – _

Dean clenched his jaw and loosened his grip, tears threatening to spill once more. 

_ He can’t die, okay? That’s all I ask. I know I don’t deserve to get anything I want on a silver platter, but, I’m beggin’ you, God, if you’re really there…save my soul mate. I was lucky enough to find him, and I can’t lose him. Not like this. He’s… he’s family. I need him. Please.  _

Dean let his tears fall again, head buried in the crook of his arm, hands wrapped around Cas’s frail wrist, keeping track of his weak but steady pulse. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep, only to be woken up a couple hours later by a knock at the door. 

Dean cracked open his eyes and squinted in the afternoon sunlight coming through the large window on the far wall. He wiped his face with his hands, glancing up at Cas to see if anything had changed, but to Dean’s disappointment, it seemed like his prayers hadn’t been answered. 

_ Yet. _

Dean turned to see who was knocking, and was surprised to see his boss at the door, who looked even more surprised to see Dean. He soon remembered, _B is Cas’s cousin,_ and then he realized, _B doesn’t know we’re soul mates. Shit._ He got up and walked toward the door to pull it open and let Balthazar inside. The older man took careful, quiet steps inside, with a sad look on his face as he glanced toward Castiel before turning back to Dean. 

“Dean,” he greeted, pulling him into a short hug.

“Hey, B,” Dean replied, voice still rough with sleep.

“May I ask… what you’re doing here?” Balthazar questioned, clearly confused. “Did you meet Cassie at the shop, or –.?” 

“No, no,” Dean shook his head and took a deep breath. “You remember when I asked you for dating advice?”

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but what does that – oh. _Oh._ ” A small smile graced his lips. “Well then. But wait, they let you in, and you’ve clearly been here a while…so you must be his –.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Found out a few weeks ago.”

“Castiel got his tattoo and didn’t _tell me?_ That bastard.” Balthazar shook his head. “I can’t even tease him about it. He must have planned this all along.” 

Dean could tell B was only trying to lighten the mood, so he smiled weakly, and tried not to think of Cas as halfway to dead. He remained standing by the door as Balthazar made his way closer to his younger cousin. Balthazar lay a gentle hand on Castiel’s face, mumbling things that Dean could only make out as, “who would do this to you?” and “where’s your father when you need him?” 

“Do you know?” Dean asked before he could stop himself.

“Hmm?” Balthazar looked over his shoulder to Dean.

“Who would do this to him, I mean. Do you have any idea?”

“I was hoping I could ask you that,” B responded.

“Me?”

“Well, yes. You go to school with Castiel, so maybe you would know if anyone was bothering him, or making any threats.”

“No, no one was bothering him, as far as I know. Not that he would tell me, he’s so quiet in our room –.”

“Your room? You are roommates too, then?”

“Oh, right, yeah, that too.” 

“Did he call you?” Balthazar turned to face Dean. 

“What?”

“Cassie may be stubborn, but he’s no idiot. If he felt like he was in danger, he would have called someone. He’s paranoid like that. Not only are you his roommate, you’re his soul mate, so I’m assuming if he called anyone, it would be you, correct?”

Dean stared for a moment, slightly stunned at B’s insight on Cas. _Well, he’s right._

“Yes,” Dean replied, “he called me. The sheriff department contacted me after finding my number on his phone –.”

“What did he say?” B interrupted.

“What?” Dean asked again, thoughts jumbling. 

“He called you, yes? What did he say?”

“Oh, I…” Dean bit his lip and looked at the floor. “I didn’t hear him call last night; my phone was dead.”

“So he didn’t leave a voice mail or anything?” 

And Dean’s head snapped up because _fuck,_ he hadn’t even thought to check his voicemail. _Fuckfuckfuck._

“I haven’t checked my phone since the sheriff called,” Dean said quickly, feeling his pockets for his phone. Finding it, he pulled it out and unlocked the screen, called his mailbox, and waited. He moved to stand by the large window across the room, using his shoulder as support as he leaned against the wall. Balthazar waited patiently next to Castiel’s bed, inspecting the cuts on his face with a heavy sigh. 

Dean frowned, then took a deep breath. “You have one new voice message,” said the automated voice in his ear. He pressed 1. 

The first sound he heard was a loud crack, which he assumed was the phone hitting the ground. And then Dean’s heart clenched because Cas was _begging,_ little spurts of “please” as his fleeting attempt to get his attackers to stop. One of them yelled “Shut up!” and Dean wanted to punch a wall. Instead, he stored the voice in his memory. His blood boiled as he heard Cas being kicked repeatedly, painful grunts escaping him, as the other men laughed, _fucking laughed._ There was a rattling sound, and Dean heard Cas choke out a sob. A scraping sound followed, as if someone was dragging the phone along the ground. _He’s reaching for the phone,_ Dean thought, but then Cas screamed and Dean’s stomach dropped. He heard more kicking, another pained grunt, a muffling sound, murmuring voices, more laughter, struggled breaths, and then Cas screamed again.

“Are you okay?” Dean heard Balthazar ask, but his voice seemed so far away compared to the sheer intensity of Cas’s voice in his ear. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the linoleum floor, his legs rendered useless, because this time, not only had Cas screamed, he had screamed _for Dean_. He had screamed Dean’s _name_ , and Dean had to swallow the bile rising in his throat to keep himself from vomiting. 

But it wasn’t over. Dean couldn’t hear Cas anymore, but the other men were still talking, laughing. Dean closed his eyes and struggled to hear as best he could. The attackers mustn’t have realized that the phone was on, because one of them got so close, Dean could hear him breathing. Then, a voice whispered, “Sorry, little brother, but you couldn’t expect to be Dad’s favorite without a few consequences, now, could you?” 

Dean froze. _Little brother? What the hell?_ Did Cas have an older brother? Did Cas _know_ his attackers? 

“Let’s go,” the voice said, and Dean heard retreating footsteps before a soft click, and then the automated “End of new messages.” 

Dean’s hand went slack and he dropped his phone. His head was spinning. Cas had an older brother. Cas had an older brother who _beat him half to death._ Dean hardly noticed that Balthazar had moved to crouch down in front of him, trying to call him out of his trance.

“Dean? Dean, can you hear me? Are you alright?” 

“Does Cas have an older brother?” Dean asked, trying to keep his composure. 

B made a shocked face, like that was the last thing he had expected Dean to say. 

“Well?” Dean demanded, impatient. It was a simple question, why couldn’t he get a simple answer? 

“That’s…a complicated matter,” Balthazar finally responded, helping Dean to stand. 

“How is that complicated? Does he have an older brother or not?”

“Why do you ask?” B asked, sounding defensive. 

Before Dean could yell at the older man, there was another knock at the door, and Anna and another boy walked in. Dean assumed he was Gabriel. 

Anna ran straight to Castiel’s bedside, tears streaming down her face and smearing her makeup. She stopped short before touching Cas’s still frame, and then collapsed onto him, her head resting on his chest, mouth moving in a mantra of “No, no no no,” and Dean didn’t know if he should try to comfort her or look away. _This is my fault._

“Balthy,” Gabriel greeted B with a hug. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Balthazar answered, and then looked over to Dean, who hadn’t moved. “But Dean might have an idea.”

“So, _you’re_ Dean,” Gabriel walked toward him, hand outstretched. 

“Uh, yeah. You must be Gabriel?” Dean took his hand and shook it. 

“Call me Gabe. I wish we were meeting under…better circumstances. I’d make a joke and charm you right over.” 

“How can you flirt at a time like this?” scolded Anna, still clinging to her brother. “Besides, if Dean was allowed in here, it’s because they’re soul mates, so you’re wasting your time.”

Gabe raised a brow at Dean. “That true?”

“Yeah,” Dean responded, wringing his hands together. He still didn’t have an answer to his question, and he was growing anxious. He knew this wasn’t the best time to ask, but he _needed_ to get some answers – he needed to know who Cas’s attackers were.

“He left me a voice mail,” Dean said aloud, and three heads turned to look at him. “Cas, he called me right before –.” Dean took a breath. _This is your fault thisisyourfault – man up._ “One of his attackers called him ‘little brother’, but Cas never mentioned an older brother.”

Gabe and Anna exchanged looks before they both glanced at Balthazar, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit,” he murmured, “Lucifer.” 

“We’re not supposed to talk about him,” said Anna, keeping her eyes on Castiel’s beaten face, her fingers lightly tracing the scars. “I didn’t know him well; I was so young when he left –.”

“Dad kicked him out,” Gabe cut in, heated. “Luci didn’t just leave. Dad told him to go.” 

“Only because Zachariah convinced him it was best.” Balthazar said, and that seemed to surprise Anna and Gabe. Dean was still confused. 

“Wait, so Cas _does_ have an older brother?”

“Technically, yes,” came B’s reply, “but the family disowned him. I don’t know the whole story, but Lucifer got into some big trouble with dangerous people, and Zachariah, my father, told their father that the only way to keep Castiel from turning into a rebel like his brother, as well as keep Gabe and Anna safe, was to kick Lucifer out. He was only 18.”

“I was ten,” Gabe said, looking as though he was just remembering it. “Yeah, and that same year, Uncle Zach came to stay with us,” he looked at Anna, “remember?”

“Barely,” she answered. “I just know that Dad was gone for a really long time.”

Dean shook his head. _What the hell is going on?_ “Okay, okay, but why would this Lucifer beat his own brother to a pulp? It doesn’t make sense, I don’t –.” _This is your fault, Winchester. Now fix it._ Dean focused his gaze on Cas, broken, bruised, beaten – “Someone has to pay for this.” 

“And they will,” B told him, “but –.”

“No,” Dean said, voice rising. “No ‘buts’, this guy is going to pay, along with the goons who helped him.”

“Dean –.” Balthazar tried, but Dean was already grabbing his keys, pocketing his phone, and walking toward the door.

“No!” he yelled this time, stunning the others. “Look, we may not be family yet, but we’re supposed to be, eventually. And regardless, if there’s one thing I learned growing up, it’s that family don’t end with blood.” 

Gabe opened his mouth to speak, but Dean held his hand up. “I’m supposed to fall in love with your brother, right? But look at him! How can I fall in love with him if he never wakes up? I can’t – this… this _Lucifer,”_ Dean spat, “did this to Cas, to _our_ Castiel, and there is _no way_ I’m not gonna just sit here, praying to a God I’m not even sure exists, while these criminals are runnin’ around, thinkin’ they got away with this. No way in hell.” 

Dean didn’t bother sticking around to hear what the others had to say. He’d made up his mind, and there was no turning back. He left Cas’s room and briskly made his way out of the hospital with swift, angry steps. He ignored the prickling feeling of tears in his eyes, wiping them away with the back of his hand. He was going to drive to the sheriff’s office and see if the voice mail could help them find Lucifer and the other attackers. And if they couldn’t find them, well, Dean would do it himself. 

When he reached the Impala, Dean yanked open the door and sat down in the driver’s seat. He jammed his keys into the ignition before peeling out of the parking lot. 

_ I’m gonna kill ‘em,  _ Dean thought, as the car’s tires screeched across the pavement. With a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, Dean made it to the main road, and floored it.

_ I’m gonna rip their fucking lungs out. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments! Here's the next chapter, darlings <3

Dean sat in class Monday morning, half asleep and incessantly checking his phone. He had spent the night at the hospital, scrabbling to finish his assignments, and only got a few hours of sleep before he had to get to his first class of the day. Dr. Henricksen had promised to get in touch with Dean if there were any changes. A week had gone by, Cas was still unconscious, and the police were no closer to catching Lucifer. After Dean had shared the voice mail with the sheriffs assigned to Castiel’s case, they went to work immediately, using voice recognition software and criminal records to track the men who hurt Cas. As expected, Lucifer had a record a mile long. From 18 to his current age of 27, he had managed to get picked up for selling and distributing illegal substances, and was even suspected of getting a few people killed along the way. He’d already been to jail many times, all over the country. But there was no recent activity on his record, and the Sheriff Mills told Dean that unfortunately, Lucifer could be halfway across the country and out of their reach.

Dean checked his phone again and cursed under his breath when there were no new messages. The past week had been a blur. He went to work, but only because Balthazar insisted that he not spend too much of his free time alone. He had exchanged numbers with Gabe and Anna, and they kept in touch, checking in on each other often. Sam was the most concerned, though. Dean hadn’t been texting him or messing with him for days, which assured Sam that something was up. When Dean finally found the strength to tell his brother everything that was going on, Sam was ultimately more worried about Dean.

“Cas is gonna wake up, Dean,” he’d said confidently. “But you need to be a functioning human being when he does.”

Sam was intrigued when Dean told him about his tattoo. Apparently, he honestly hadn’t expected Dean to get his tattoo until he was at least 30. At that, Dean had called Sam a bitch and reminded him that he didn’t have  _his_ tattoo yet, so he could shove it. Sam responded with the usual  _Jerk,_ and hugged his older brother, promising him that Castiel would be okay. He had to be okay.

_He has to be._

When class ended, it was 10:45, and Dean had another class at noon. He wanted to swing by the hospital again, talk to Cas for a while, pretend he could hear him, but he couldn’t afford to miss any more classes. His professors had given him a free pass the week before, so he didn’t want to ask for any more.

Dean pulled his book bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the lecture hall. It was still warm in late September, although it was officially fall. Since he didn’t have too much time before his next class, he decided to text Sam and find out what he was up to. Ever since Sam told him he was worried about him, Dean made an effort to be more present, even if he would rather lie in bed until Cas decided to  _wake the fuck up._

Dean’s phone was already in his hand, so he unlocked the screen and typed: Hey little bro, u busy?

Sam responded a few minutes later, while Dean sat at one of the tables strewn around campus: Not anymore. Why, what’s up?

Dean quirked a brow.  _Not anymore?_ He texted back: I’m sitting at 1 of the tables, by the library. Got some time b4 my next class.

Sam: Cool, be there in 5.

As expected, Sam was jogging towards Dean almost exactly five minutes later. “Hey,” he huffed, sitting down across from him. “How are you?”

Dean shrugged. He knew what Sam wanted to hear, but he was  _not_ about to talk about his dysfunctional grieving process in public. Besides, he had no reason to grieve. Cas would wake up soon enough.  _He’ll wake up, he will._   _He has to._ “Alright, I guess,” he said, then smiled, electing to change the subject. “What were you up to? You said you weren’t busy  _anymore…_?”

“Um,” Sam started, looking away and scratching the back of his neck – a tell he’d picked up from Dean.

Dean laughed. “Don’t tell me you were with a  _girl_ or something?”

“Well, why wouldn’t I be!” Sam shot back, before shrinking into shyness again. “I mean, uh –.”

“Sammy’s got a girl!” Dean exclaimed, and Sam shushed him.

“I don’t want it in the paper or anything, jeez!”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Dean asked, curious. Sam always used to call Dean for advice about girls, and Dean would happily supply him with too much information.

Sam bit his lip. “I asked her out last week. I wanted to tell you about it, but…Cas…”

Dean waved a hand in the air, as if dismissing Sam’s unnecessary guilt. “Sam, come on. Just because things are a little rough for me right now –.”

“Your soul mate’s in a coma!” Sam whispered harshly. “A  _little_ rough? Really? You may be fooling others, but I  _know_ you, Dean. You’re so far from okay, and don’t even try to tell me you’re not, because I see it. The bags under your eyes, the way you flinch every time your phone goes off – how long has it been since you’ve had a burger?”

And Dean’s a bit caught off guard because  _what the hell do burgers have to do with anything?_ But Sam was looking at him with that ‘ _you know’_ face, and then Dean remembered that he hadn’t had a burger since the Sunday Cas was attacked. Come to think of it, he hadn’t eaten much of anything since…  _Oh._

He sighed, and Sam was still looking at him, so he spoke up. “I’m just not hungry,” Dean deadpanned, which didn’t seem to satisfy Sam in the least, but he didn’t ask questions either. Just stood and signaled for Dean to follow him.

“Where we going?” Dean asked, almost tripping, trying to catch up to his younger brother.  _Speed walker, much?_

“To the only burger joint on campus,” Sam replied, weaving through the crowd of students.

“Sammy, I said I’m not –.”

Sam turned abruptly and pointed at Dean. “You eat, I tell you about the girl.”

Dean gaped for a second, and then smirked. No way would he give up the chance to see Sam squirm over a girl. He could manage to stuff down a burger or two.

“Deal.”

~

Twenty minutes later, Sam’s laughing because Dean had sworn he wouldn’t eat more than two burgers, and yet here he was, ordering his fourth.

“I was hungry, okay? Shut up,” he sneered, but Sam only laughed harder.

“What would you do without me? Starve?” Sam asked after he caught his breath.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” replied Dean, wiping his mouth with a napkin from the dispenser on the dining hall table. “Now, the girl. Spill.”

Sam sighed. “Alright, okay, um. Well her name is Jessica –.”

“She cute?” Dean asked, completely serious.

“Looks aren’t everything, Dean.” Sam scoffed, stabbing a fry into his ketchup. “But if you  _must_ know, yes, she’s cute. She’s got blond, curly hair, and pretty eyes, and when she laughs, I just…” Sam trailed, smiling, and Dean couldn’t help but be happy for his brother.

“You’re hooked,” he said knowingly. “This Jessica has got you wrapped around her little finger, huh?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably. But she’s worth it. I just hope she feels the same way about me.”

Dean dug into his burger and grinned. “Mmm. Wait, so, do you if she has her… _ya know_ … yet?”

“Dean!” Sam scolded, throwing a fry at him. Dean nearly caught it in his mouth, but it fell to the floor.

“What?” Dean asked innocently, “We both know you’re gonna put all your time and effort into this relationship, so why not find out if –.”

“She’ll tell me about that when she’s  _ready,_ Dean. Did you just up and ask Cas if he had his?”

Dean squinted, thinking, and then, “Yeah, actually.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

Dean smiled. “Because you know me better than anyone, Sammy. So, when do I get to meet this girl?”

“Uh…” Sam hesitated, “soon, soon. I just, um…”

“What it is?” Dean asked. “She have two heads or something?”

“No, Dean,” Sam sighed. “I kinda…I told her about you…and Cas. And what happened.”

Dean’s face softened. “Oh?”

“Please don’t be mad, Dean, I just…” Sam sighed again, and Dean knew he was about to start rambling, but didn’t have time to stop him. “We were just talking, and she asked about my big brother and I said you were at the hospital and she got all worried and I had to tell you were there for your roommate and she asked how you got in since you weren’t family and so I had to tell her you were soul mates and she got all sad for you and mushy and I  _know_ how much you hate when people pity you –.”

“Sam!” Dean said loudly, shutting his brother up. “What does that have to do with me meeting her?”

“She’ll probably hug you and tell you how sorry she is and all that stuff,” Sam said, so quietly that Dean had to strain to hear him. “I didn’t want you to meet her just to have her bring all that up.”

“Sammy,” Dean began, “you don’t have to make excuses for me, okay? Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean you have to –.”

“I’m your brother, Dean; I should have been in the hospital with you!” Sam exclaimed, startling a few students sitting at tables around them. “Not trying to win over some girl I just met!”

 _So that’s what this is,_ Dean thought. Sam had managed to pick up his habit of feeling guilty about things he couldn’t control.  _Of course._

Dean rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Sam, you have nothing to feel bad about, you hear? Nothing.”

“But, Dean –.”

“No, Sam. I never asked you to come to the hospital with me, okay? I never asked you to hold my hand and listen to my feelings, because I don’t  _talk_ about my feelings. I deal with…” Dean swallowed before continuing, “with grief, in ways that aren’t recommended, you  _know_ this.”

Sam looked up at him with those damned puppy-dog eyes and Dean almost reached over to hug him right there.

“Look,” he went on, “what you’re doing for me now? Things like this?” Dean gestured between them, “This is enough. More than enough, actually. If I need you to do more, I will let you know.”

Dean sat back and waited for Sam to respond.

“Promise?” Sam asked finally, too hopeful.

“Promise,” Dean said, smiling. But he knew he was lying. This was his burden to carry, and he would rather Sam stay as far away from it as possible.

~

Dean walked into his Politics class a couple minutes before noon. This lecture room was large, with about 200 seats in total, but he spotted some familiar faces near the back. He made his way up the steps that lined the seats and squeezed between Kevin and Ash. They both had heard what happened.

“Hey,” Kevin greeted with a small smile, while Ash gave him a pat on the back as he sat down. Neither of them brought up Cas. They knew better than to pester him about how he was feeling, and Dean would definitely let them know if Cas was doing any better.

“He’s stable,” Dean whispered as their professor walked in. “No change, but it’s not any worse.”

“Well that’s good,” Ash replied, and Kevin nodded in agreement.  _That should at least hold ‘em off for now,_ thought Dean.

“Good afternoon, class,” Professor Walker started. “We’re doing debates today,” and at that, the class groaned in unison.

“Hey, you guy have a debate paper due in a week, remember? This should  _help_ you. Now, I’m going to write out three topics on the board, and we’ll go from there.”

As the professor wrote, Dean began feeling a little panicky.  _Debate paper?_ He turned to Kevin.

“Do we really have a paper due next week?”

“Yeah, man, I wrote mine this past weekend,” he shrugged. “He passed out the rubric a week ago, you were –.” Kevin stopped suddenly and looked down, playing with the pencil in his hands. “You were, uh, at the hospital that day, I think.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d missed three whole days of classes last week, after refusing to leave Cas’s side except to shower and eat, in case he woke. It was Balthazar who had somehow talked him into leaving, telling him that he would be no good to Cas if he was exhausted and starving.

He figured that he’d better pay attention, so he took out a notepad and jotted down the topics Professor Walker had finished writing on the board: tattoo removal, medical consent laws, and NSB marriages.

“NSB?” Dean questioned Ash, leaning over slightly.

“Non soul-bound,” Ash whispered back. “Ya know, the whole, wanting to marry someone who’s not your soul mate?”

“Oh, right, right,” Dean replied. He had never really been in tune with the big issues, choosing sports over news when he watched television. But he knew enough to realize why NSB marriages would be a problem. He just didn’t agree with discriminating against those who decided on that lifestyle. They were people too, anyway.

He’d heard of the consent laws problem – people were angry because doctors weren’t allowed to let anyone besides immediate family members make decisions for their loved ones who couldn’t decide for themselves. Personally, Dean thought that was pretty shitty. His Uncle Bobby wasn’t really his uncle, but he probably knew him and Sam better than their own father, who was almost always away on business. But if something happened, and one of them ended up in the hospital, Bobby would have absolutely no say, and that just wasn’t right.

Tattoo removal was another thing. It was illegal, but Dean didn’t understand why something like that had to be enforced. Well he did – underground removal businesses. But Dean thought those were stupid. Why would anyone want to  _remove_ the one thing that would lead them to the person they were supposed to spend the rest of their lives with? He didn’t see the point. Sure, the idea of pure independence sounded nice, but after a while, wouldn’t it be nicer to have someone to come home to?

Dean couldn’t imagine going his whole life without finding his soul mate.

He couldn’t imagine life without Cas, period.

And just like that, he was back in his shell, losing the light at the end of the tunnel he got dropped in.  _Cas might never wake up,_ Dean thought, and he shut down, folding his arms on his desk and hiding his face, trying not to shake. He blocked out the sounds of the class and ignored Ash and Kevin’s worried questions, but his thoughts were so loud, they were deafening.  _But he will wake up. Cas has to wake up,_ Dean wished, because maybe if he wished hard enough, it would happen _. He has to, he just has to, God, please, he has to._


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel wakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see the last chapter had everyone in a corner crying. Welp.
> 
> I would apologize, but I think this chapter will make you all feel a bit better. It's a long one! :3

Castiel woke up on a Thursday.

It wasn’t sudden or anything, but little by little, he came to. Castiel’s entire body felt heavy and sore, as if he’d been run over. His mouth was dry, his lips were definitely chapped, and he wondered for a second if he was dead. He was quick to dismiss the idea, though, because despite his confusion, he was thinking way too clearly to be a dead man. It took him a while to figure out where he was, but things became more lucid once his ears decided to start functioning again.  

The first thing Castiel heard was Dean’s voice. It was low, and muffled, but Cas knew without a doubt that it was Dean.  _His_ Dean.  

“It’s been twelve days,” Dean was saying, “and you still haven’t woken up. And I’ve tried praying – prayed more this past week than I have my whole life – but nothing’s working.”

 _He prayed?_ Castiel felt Dean’s hand squeeze his own. He tried to squeeze back, to give him some sign that he could hear him, but his body wasn’t cooperating with his brain yet.

Dean sighed, “Balthazar is trying to be strong for Gabe and Anna, and me, I suppose, but his resolve is slipping. Keeps asking where your father is… And Anna, man, she is miserable. Whenever I call to update her, I know she’s been crying. Gabriel, well,” Dean chuckled, “he’s drowning himself in booze, so you’ll have to wake up and kick his ass for being an idiot. That’s his incentive, I guess.”

Dean paused, and Castiel wanted to respond, wanted to promise Dean that Gabriel  _would_ in fact receive a thorough beat down for his stupidity, but he couldn’t manage to move his mouth.  _Dammit._

“You have to wake up, Cas,” Dean started again, voice soft and desperate, “because I don’t think I can do this without you. We’re soul mates, you know? I can’t… What will my life be now? Am I just supposed to pretend I never met you?”

Dean sniffled, and Cas could tell he was tearing up now, and all he wanted to do is hold Dean and convince him that he was okay, but he still couldn’t get himself move.  _Come on, Castiel, focus!_

“You can’t just walk into my life, screw it all up in the best way, and then… you can’t do that, okay? You have to wake up,” Dean choked out, and sniffled again, and Castiel didn’t think he could take any more of it – listening to how hopeless Dean sounded, like he’d already lost Cas.  _And he probably blames himself,_ thought Castiel.  _Fuck._

“Please,” Dean begged, and Castiel felt his heart sink, “please, open your eyes. Okay? For me? Just for a minute, alright? And I’ll never ask anything from you ever again, I promise, please, I lo-…” He paused again, but  _what was he about to say?_ They would definitely be discussing that later, Castiel decided.

Dean’s voiced dropped to a whisper, “I need you, just,” he took a breath, “Wake up for me, angel.”

 

 _Angel?_ Castiel thought, but Dean’s hands suddenly went rigid around his own, and he could feel his tongue move, heavy and dry, in his mouth.  _Did I say that out loud?_

“Cas?!” Dean asked, and Castiel heard a chair scrape on tile floor as Dean stood from his seat and hovered above him.

Castiel tried to speak again. “Angel,” he said, and his throat ached, but tried to smile as he slowly opened his eyes, “that’s a new one.”

Dean exhaled so much air, Castiel thought he was going to fall over. He squeezed Dean’s hands with all his might.

“You’re… you’re awake,” Dean said quietly, moving one hand to ghost over the side of Castiel’s face.

Dean looked worn. The bags under his eyes were too dark and his skin lacked its usual glow, but his eyes, _damn those eyes,_ his eyes shined with hope and relief, and he was smiling down at him, and Castiel had never seen something so beautiful.

Suddenly, Dean looked alert. “You’re awake…” he looked over his shoulder, “He’s awake! Cas is awake!” Dean yelled, and Castiel heard footsteps make their way into the room, machines beeping and voices blending together. Things got loud quickly, and he almost panicked, still confused about what was happening, but Dean’s voice was clear as a bell above all else.

“I’ll be right here,” Dean said as he was lead away from Castiel’s bedside, “I’m gonna tell the others you’re awake, okay? I’m not going anywhere, angel, I promise!”

Castiel calmed down, because he knew Dean wouldn’t walk away from him if there was any imminent danger. He tried to relax as what he recognized as medical staff pulled at the wires and tubes that surrounded him. And he smiled, because Dean called him  _angel,_  and frankly, he could get used to that. 

~

If Dean was honest with himself, he really hadn’t expected Cas to wake up at all. He was almost set on living alone for the rest of his life, and he may or may not have considered getting his tattoo removed. Even now, as his hands trembled and he dialed Sam’s number, everything felt surreal. He sat down on the bench outside Cas’s hospital room and put the phone to his ears, counting his breaths to keep himself steady.

“Dean?” Sam questioned through the phone, concerned, “Is something wrong? I’m in the middle of cla-.”

“Cas woke up,” Dean said in a breath, smiling despite how fragile the world felt under his Converse shoes. “He’s alive…Sammy, he’s okay.”

“Oh my god, Dean, that’s amazing! I’ll be over as soon as class gets out, okay? I’ll take the school shuttle. They’ll let me in since I’m your brother, right?”

“Yeah, they should, and uh, yeah don’t skip, I just had to tell you first.”

“I’m just so glad he’s alright. I’ll see you later, don’t pass out or anything!” Sam teased before hanging up, and Dean grinned, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes.

He took another deep breath, rotating his phone in his hands, and then texted Gabe the news before calling Balthazar. As the line rang, Dean remembered a conversation they had had earlier that day at the shop. Dean was trying to convince himself that he could live if Cas didn’t wake up, that he’d have to, for Sammy, but Balthazar had placed a confident hand on his shoulder and said, “Have a little faith, darling. He could wake up today, you never know.”

“Hello?” Balthazar answered.

“B? It’s Dean.”

“Dean, has something happened? Is everything alright?”

And Dean laughed, because for once, things  _were_ alright. “Castiel is awake.”

“Oh, thank God!” Balthazar exclaimed. Dean could hear him rummaging around for a few seconds before he spoke up again. “I’ll get Anna from her school and meet you at the hospital. Did you tell Gabriel?”

“Yes, yes, I just texted him. I’ll see you soon.”

After a brief goodbye, Dean hung up and placed his hands in his lap. He leaned against the wall at his back and stared up at the ceiling, closed his eyes, and hoped God, or some higher being, was listening.

 _Thank you,_ he prayed, as a tear escaped his eyes and ran down his cheek.  _I didn’t deserve this, but you made it happen anyway, and I’m just really, really relieved, because I honestly don’t know what I would have done if… Anyway, thank you. For Cas. For everything._

Dean sighed, realizing how exhausted he was. Maybe now, finally, he’d actually be able to sleep at night.

A minute later, he heard footsteps and looked up. “You can go see him now,” said Dr. Henricksen, smiling as he walked out of the hospital room, a few nurses following him out. “He’s asking for you.”

 _Have a little faith,_ Dean recited in his head, and maybe, for the first time in a long time, he did.

~

Castiel turned his head when he heard the door click open. Dean stood at the door, clearly unsure of himself. Castiel grumbled, but he was smiling.

“You’re not going to break me, Dean, I’m not a fragile butterfly.”

“You look like one,” was Dean’s reply, but in a few short strides, he was at Castiel’s side, reaching for his right hand and kissing the back of it.

“I thought… I thought I’d lost you,” Dean whispered, as if speaking too loudly would send Castiel into cardiac arrest.

“What did I tell you,” Cas said quietly, moving his hand so he could wipe the wetness away from Dean’s reddened cheeks, “I’m not going to leave you.”

Apparently, that was all it took for Dean to break down. He almost threw himself over Castiel, wrapping one arm over his abdomen and the other clutching at his side. Dean’s face was tucked into Castiel’s neck, and his eyelashes tickled Castiel’s jaw, but he didn’t mind. He wrapped his good arm around Dean’s form and placed his hand on his back, trying to comfort him. He was sobbing, and Castiel heard him repeating his name,  _Cas,_ over and over again, like he couldn’t believe he was really there.

“It’s okay,” Castiel soothed, putting his lips to Dean’s temple. “I’m alright, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

They stayed that way for a long time, and Castiel had actually started to doze off, tired and still confused about what happened.

“Dean?” he said, sleepily, shoving him a little.

“Yeah?” Dean answered, wide awake. He stood up and looked at Castiel with those dazzling emerald eyes if his, glazed over from crying. When Castiel didn’t look away, Dean huffed out a laugh.

“If you’re wondering what I was doing, I was, uh, listening. To your heart.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.  _Of course he was._  “Dean, I’m not going to die.”

“But you almost did!”

“ _Dean,”_ Castiel responded, “I didn’t die, and I’m not going to. Dr. Henricksen told me about my ribs and my hand, but there was no internal bleeding, okay? No life-threatening complications. I’m bruised all over, and I’ll probably be sore for weeks, if not months, but I’ll live. I promise.” 

Dean sighed, and squeezed his hand. Castiel squeezed back, suddenly a bit nervous. He still had no clue how he ended up in the hospital. The last thing he remembered was walking home from the library Sunday night, and then…

“What day is it?” he asked, looking up at Dean.

“Thursday, the 27th. You were out for almost two weeks. Professor Crowley even started letting me skip, because the assignments couldn’t be done without a lab partner.”

“Two weeks?” Castiel’s eyes went wide. It had only felt like a day or so. “Dean… what the  _fuck_ happened to me?”

It was Dean’s turn to look surprised. “Wait, Cas, do you not remember?”

“Remember what?” he asked, growing worried. “What happened? Did I fall?”

“Fall?” Dean asked, shaking his head, “Cas, no, some thugs beat the shit out of you!”

“What?” 

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Gabriel peeked his head in.

“Cassie?” he asked, almost as wary as Dean had been.

Dean moved out of the way, dropping Castiel’s hand, and he immediately missed the warmth. “Get over here, you menace,” Cas said to Gabriel, smiling and waving him over. He’d have to continue his conversation with Dean later. For now, he was just excited to see his little brother.

“God, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Gabriel said, voice cracking as he gave Castiel a gentle hug. “Is everything alright? Are all your parts working right?”

Castiel laughed. “Yes, Gabriel, thank you. I’m okay.” He looked toward the door for a moment before looking at Gabriel again. “Where’s Anna?”

“She’s on her way with Balthazar,” Dean answered. “Sam’s coming to see you, too, as soon as his class lets out.”

“Your brother?” Castiel asked, and smiled when Dean nodded. “That’s awfully sweet of him.” 

“You have a brother?” Gabe asked. “So, um, how old is he?”

“Gabriel!” Cas scolded, coughing a little.  _Shit, still hurts._  Dean’s hands were on him in no time, checking him over, offering him water, which he sipped from a straw before placing it on the table to his side.

“You good?” Dean asked, and even Gabriel looked a bit worried.

“I’m okay, Dean, just sore,” he assured. “Now, Gabriel, don’t you dare think of hitting on Dean’s brother. I literally  _just_ woke up from a damn  _coma._ ”

Dean’s eyes went so wide, Castiel thought they’d pop out of his skull. “You want to hit on my  _brother?_ Dude, come on. You don’t even know him, and we’re in a  _hospital._ ”

“What? If he looks half as good as you, I’m in. Why should Cassie be the only one with man candy?”

“Because my  _man candy,_ ” Castiel said, moving his fingers to resemble quotation marks, “happens to be my _soul mate,_ Gabriel.”

“Yeah, yeah, well lucky you,” Gabriel responded, rolling his eyes.

Castiel could tell Dean wanted to say something, but the hospital room door opened again, and  _speak of the devil,_ there was Sam. He was taller than he’d imagined, only having seen him in a few of Dean’s photos.

“Cas!” He exclaimed, walking toward the bed. Castiel smiled at the nickname, assuming he’d picked it up from Dean. Sam was slim with broad shoulders, and his head was a mess of floppy brown hair and bangs that almost covered his eyes.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Sam,” Cas said, “Although, I do wish it was under different circumstances.”

Sam shrugged, “I’m just happy you’re awake. Dean was so miserable, it actually made me feel bad, and I hadn’t even met you yet.”

Sam turned to look at Dean and smirked. “Told you he’d be alright.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, flicking his little brother in the shoulder.

“Ow! Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean replied, smiling.  _So this is Sam,_ Castiel thought, and decided that he liked him.

Gabriel coughed, in the way that made it obvious that he wanted attention.

“Oh, Sam, this is my brother, Gabriel,” Castiel gestured toward his brother. Sam turned around, stared for a beat, or five, and then stuck out his hand.

“Gabriel Novak, is it? Nice to meet you.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, but shook Sam’s hand, “Nice to meet you, too, Sam WInchester. Call me Gabe. You’re uh, really tall.”

“You’re short,” Sam deadpanned, and Dean choked back a laugh.

“Sammy, be nice!”

“I am! Just an observation,” he let go of Gabriel’s hand. “I also happen to know about your infamous legacy here.”

“Legacy?” Cas and Dean asked in unison, and Gabe beamed.

“Oh, do you, now?” he asked, and Sam crossed his arms, unimpressed.

“Yeah. I’ve heard some things about you, Trickster.”

Castiel almost spit up the water he was drinking. “ _You’re_ the trickster that pulled all those stunts last year?”

“What stunts?” Dean asked, sounding intrigued.

When Gabriel went to respond, Castiel cut him off. “Oh, don’t encourage him,” he sighed, putting his water back down. “I can  _not_ believe… Actually, I can believe it was you.”

“What? It’s not like anyone got hurt,” Gabe tried, but Castiel remembered how bad things got during Spirit Week last year, when a mysterious Trickster decided it would be funny to switch out the salt in the dining hall kitchen for sugar.

“Almost half of the student body ended up in the clinic!” Castiel exclaimed.

“Yeah, apparently you’ve got a sweet tooth. Not everyone in the worlds wants cavities, you know.”

“I didn’t think it would be such a big deal! Also,” Gabe pointed to Sam, “I’ve never had a cavity in my life, thank you very much, Winchester.”

“Whatever,” Sam waved him off. The look on Gabriel’s face made Castiel laugh.

Sam was smiling as well. “I gotta run,” he told Dean, who had managed to snake his hand back into Castiel’s. “I’ve got a study session with Jess.”

“Oh, she’s ‘Jess’ now?” Dean teased.

“Shut up, I’ll text you later.” Sam said, sticking his tongue out at him. It amused Castiel to see Sam and Dean interact so playfully. He wished he and his brothers were more like that.

“Bye, Cas,” Sam waved, then looked at Gabriel, “I’m glad I could put a face to a name, Trickster,” he practically sneered.

“Don’t go ratting me out now,” Gabriel replied with a wink, which made Sam flinch a little before he walked out of the room. Gabe turned to face Dean. “Who’s Jess?”

“Some girl my brother likes,” Dean shrugged, unable to see the interest in Gabe’s eyes, but Castiel could tell immediately that his little brother considered Sam a challenge, and Gabriel loved to play games.

“You leave that boy alone,” Castiel warned, and felt Dean’s hand tense up in his own, so he clarified. “He’s clearly too good for you,” Castiel said, somewhat sarcastically, “and he’s already interested in a nice girl.”

“So?” Gabriel replied with fiend offence, “It’s not like I’m gonna harass him, I have no reason to.”

“Of course you don’t,” Castiel rolled his eyes again, “now go make yourself useful and find out where your sister is.”

“You just want some alone time with your boyfriend,” Gabriel huffed, but fished out his phone and left the room anyway.

When the door closed behind him, Dean moved closer, using his free hand to play with Castiel’s hair.  _Oh, ew, my hair is probably disgusting._

“Boyfriend?” Dean asked, and Castiel was about to apologize for Gabriel’s rudeness – as well as his treacherous hair – but Dean was smiling, so Castiel assumed he didn’t hate being referred to that way.

“That’s what you are, right? I mean, for now, technically.” Castiel bit his lip. “We don’t have to do labels if –.”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean chuckled. “I want to be your boyfriend. If you’ll have me.”

And Castiel rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, because  _is that even a question anymore?_ He actually had a lot of questions, like how the hell he wound up in the hospital, and  _what the hell Dean almost said to him before he woke up,_  but he found himself moving his good hand to the back of Dean’s neck and pulling him down for a well-awaited kiss, and all his questions were temporarily forgotten.

Dean smiled against his lips, and Castiel realized that he might already be a little bit in love with his soul mate. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all of you so much :3  
> Please don't hate me after this chapter :3   
> (THE PLOT THICKENS.)

After Castiel finally convinced Dean to leave for his evening class, he fell asleep again, briefly, before there was another knock at his door.

“Come in,” he said gruffly, coughing a few times to clear his throat before pushing himself into a more comfortable position. When he looked up, he saw his older cousin smiling at him from across the room.

“Balthazar! Please, come in, how have you been?”

Balthazar gave Castiel a brief hug before sitting in the chair beside his bed. “How am I? I should be asking _you_  that, dear,” he smiled.

“Well, I’m awake,” Castiel shrugged, “which is good. But wait, where’s Anna?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “She’s outside on the bench being a drama queen. I assured her that you were fine, but we hit traffic on the way here and she got all anxious again.”

Castiel frowned, disappointed. Why would Anna be anxious?  _Maybe it has something to do with how I ended up here._

“Balthazar,” Cas began, turning toward his cousin, “what happened to me?”

“You…don’t remember?” Balthazar asked, surprised.

“I don’t. Not really. I had assumed I’d fallen, or something equally as stupid, but then Dean mentioned a bunch of thugs beating me up?”

“So he didn’t say who it was?”

“You know who – you  _know_ who did this to me?!” Castiel exclaimed, unable to believe his ears.  _How could they know and not tell me?_ “Well, are you gonna tell me who broke my hand and three of my ribs? Who made half of my face a gigantic bruise?”

“Cassie, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea –.”

“Why not?!” Castiel was seething. He was the one in the coma for almost two weeks, and yet no one would give him any answers. “I have a right to know!”

“Castiel, please, you need your rest –.” Balthazar tried, but Castiel was not having it.

“No, I want to know who almost fucking killed me!” he yelled, so loud his entire body was starting to ache again, but he had to know. “Who did –.”

“It was Lucifer,” Anna’s voice cut in, soft and frail, yet firm. She’d been crying, Castiel could tell. She slowly walked into the room before closing the door behind her. When she looked up at Castiel, her eyes were red. The red in her hair, though, was fading.

“Lucifer?” Castiel heard himself ask, voice cracking. They never,  _ever,_ spoke about Lucifer. His older brother had been disowned when Castiel was only twelve, and he hadn’t seen him since. Their relationship had been…strained, to say the least. Luci always seemed to hold some sort of grudge against Castiel, but he never said why, and Castiel never got the chance to ask.

Castiel looked from Anna to Balthazar. “What is she talking about? We haven’t seen Luci in over a decade, how could he have done this?”

“You called Dean,” Anna said quietly, standing next to the bed now, “before you passed out, and when it went to voicemail. Lucifer’s voice was on it.”

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, flashback emerging suddenly – street lights, footsteps, rough hands pushing him down, knocking his phone away – he shook his head. He didn’t want to remember. “How can you be sure it was him?” he asked, images in his head vanishing almost as instantly as they had appeared.

“He called you ‘little brother’,” Balthazar said. “It was him. There were two others with him, but…it was him, Cassie. I’m sorry.”

Unsure of what to say, Castiel lay back against his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Only Lucifer referred to him that way, as if he couldn’t be bothered to refer to him by his actual name.  _My own brother did this to me?_ Castiel was dumbfounded. He hadn’t even known if Lucifer was still  _alive,_ and now here he was, broken and battered in a hospital bed, because of his long lost brother.  _Lucifer did this to me. Why would he do this to me?_

“Why?” Castiel asked aloud, “I don’t… I didn’t… Why?” Tears filled his eyes and he felt Anna’s thin fingers wrap around his own.

Balthazar placed a large hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Cassie,” he said again, “but let’s not worry about that right now, okay? You just need to get better so you can out of this horrid place.” Balthazar was not a fan of hospitals.

Castiel nodded, unable to unfix his eyes from the ceiling. Hundreds of questions crowded his mind, but he tried to push them away. Memories began squeezing their way through as well, and Castiel did his best to ignore them. He knew, sooner or later, that he’d have to deal with them, but he couldn’t do that right now. Balthazar was right. He had to focus on getting better.

_Hopefully I don’t drive myself crazy first._

~

A few days after Cas had woken up, Dr. Henricksen gave him the okay to leave, with strict instructions to take it easy. Because Dean was his soul mate, as well as an adult, Cas was allowed to be released into his care.

“ _Care,_ Dean, which means you need to take  _care_ of me, alright?” Cas quipped as Dean rolled him out of the hospital’s double doors in a wheelchair.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be fine. I practically raised Sam, okay? I know how to take care of people.” Dean teased back, using his foot to put the brakes on the wheelchair before walking around it to help Cas up. Avoiding the sling on Cas’s left arm, Dean went to his right and wrapped an arm around Cas’s middle as they made their way toward the Impala, which was parked in front of the hospital entrance.

“Damn, Cas, what did they feed you in there?”

Cas stopped walking and tilted his head, “They hardly fed me anything, Dean, I was on an IV most of the time. Why, am I too heavy?”

Dean rolled his eyes.  _I’m stuck with this fool for the rest of my life._ “Sarcasm, Cas,” he said, chuckling and pulling Cas along. He let go of him for a moment to open the passenger side door of his baby before shuffling Cas inside,  _very gently,_ and closing the door again.

“Alright, blue eyes,” Dean said once he was inside the car, fitting the keys into the ignition,” let’s get you home.”

“Well which one is it gonna be?” Cas asked, and when Dean raised an eyebrow, he explained, “‘Angel’? Or ‘blue eyes’?”

Dean laughed, “Why can’t it be both?”

Dean could see Cas shrug in his peripheral vision. “I’ve only called you ‘babe’,” he said, fidgeting with his sling.

“Well, you  _could_ call me something else, ya know. Nothing girly, though,” Dean said pointedly, and Cas scoffed.

“What, like princess?”

“Yeah, none of that. Sam would  _never_ let me live it down, and I would hate you for all of eternity.”

Cas laughed at that, which made Dean smile. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound of Cas’s laugh, or his scent, or his sex hair,  _or his everything._

“I missed you,” Dean said, though he hadn’t meant to, but it was too late to take it back. It was true, nonetheless. He eased the car to a halt at a stop light and looked over at Cas, who was looking him at him with those  _damn baby blues,_ and Dean was sure he missed Cas’s eyes the most.

“I missed you, too,” Cas replied, smiling. “But, of course, I was out for twelve days, so I probably wasn’t even thinking about you.”

The light turned green before Dean could lean over and kiss the smirk right off Cas’s face. “Way to ruin the mood,” he said, pretending to be annoyed. “Worst boyfriend ever.”

“Oh, hush,” Cas made a noncommittal movement with his right hand, “I’m awesome.”

“Now you’re taking my phrases, too? Wow, territorial much,” Dean teased, which earned him a punch in the arm.

“Ouch, abusive, too!” Dean laughed, expecting to hear a clever comeback from his counterpart, but Cas was silent.

“Cas?” Dean asked, parking the Impala once they reached the dorms. It was Saturday, and a lot of spots were empty.

“Hmm?” Cas looked over at Dean as if he’d been awakened from a dream.

Dean unbuckled his seat belt. “You alright?

“No,” he said, and Dean’s stomach dropped.

“Why, what’s wrong? Does something hurt? Did I drive too fast?”  _Dammit, if I hurt him again, I swear –._

“No,” Cas said again, blinking slowly, “I just… I’m remembering something, I think.”

 _Remembering something?_ “Cas, what do you mean? Remembering what?”

“Abuse,” Cas was practically whispering now, looking down, but Dean heard him loud and clear, and if he wasn’t already worried, he sure was now.

“Abuse? What abuse? The attack? Are you remembering what happened?”

“No, no, this isn’t Lucifer.”

 _He knows about Lucifer? Did Anna tell him?_ Dean slid forward on the Impala’s bench seat and reached for Cas’s hand. “What isn’t Lucifer? Cas, what’s going on?” He rubbed a thumb over Cas’s fingers. “Talk to me”

Cas’s eyes snapped up to meet Dean’s, and all at once, Cas went from calm to panicked. Wide-eyed and scared, he started hyperventilating and looking around wildly, as if he was trying to find a way out. He grabbed at Dean’s wrist and squeezed hard, nails biting into freckled skin.

Dean didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just grab Cas and hold him, that could hurt his injuries, and he had no clue what Cas was freaking out about, only that the word ‘abuse’ had triggered him somehow.

“Ow – ouch, Cas – Cas!” Dean tried to get his attention, “Castiel, hey, look at me!” He used his free hand to touch Cas’s face, but he flinched away. “Cas, it’s me, Dean – it’s Dean!”

That seemed to get Castiel to stop moving so sporadically, so Dean tried touching his face again, and this time, Cas let him.

“Cas?” Dean began, trying to stay calm, “Cas, buddy, it’s me, okay? It’s just me. I’m the only one here, and I’m  _not_ going to hurt you.”

When Cas closed his eyes again, Dean leaned his face in to kiss him briefly. When he pulled away, Cas’s eyes were still closed.

“Cas,” Dean said again, wincing a little at the nails still digging crescents into his wrist. “Open those pretty eyes for me, angel. Breathe, okay? It’s just me. I promise I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you. Breathe.”

It felt like an eternity passed before Cas finally opened his eyes and his breathing returned to normal. A tear or two slipped down his cheeks, and Dean used the back of his fingers to brush them away.

“I…I remember…” Cas started, sounding absolutely  _wrecked,_ and it made Dean’s heart physically hurt, “…what he did to me.”

“Who did? Who did what to you?” Dean asked, trying not to sound as alarmed as he felt.

“It wasn’t my father who made Lucifer leave, it was my uncle. Zachariah.”

“Yeah, Balthazar’s dad, right? He mentioned him, but what does he have to do with –?”

“He advised my father to leave for a while. He promised to take care of us, but he…he…”

“He…what?” Dean’s pulse pounded loud in his ears.  _What is Cas trying to say?_ “You can tell me, angel,” Dean crooned, trying his best to keep Cas calm. “What did he do?”

Cas blinked once, then twice, and suddenly, he sat up straight, letting go of Dean and looking incredibly confused, much like Dean felt.

“What just happened?” he asked, looking at Dean before looking at himself, and then out of the window. “How long have we been sitting here?”

“Like ten minutes… you had a panic attack, I think.” Dean replied, moving to tilt Cas’s chin up with his fingers. “Hey, you okay?”

“A panic attack,” Cas repeated, laughing in a way that made Dean feel sick. “It’s happening again.”

“What’s happening again? Cas, I want to help you, but I am  _so_ lost –.”

“You can’t help me!” Cas snapped, making Dean pull his hand away. “I’m fucked up, okay? In ways you were never supposed to know about, and now, I –.” Cas took a short breath and brought his right hand up to cover his mouth. He turned away from Dean and shook his head.

Dean sat still and stunned, with no clue how to proceed. Cas had freaked out, like totally went psycho on him. From what Dean could see, he had repressed a really bad memory, and now it was crawling to the surface, putting a crack in his chassis. Dean wondered what this Uncle Zach character could have done to Cas, but he didn’t want to think about it. It hurt too much.  _What the hell happened to him?_

“Cas…” Dean tried again, “I understand –.”

“No,” Cas deadpanned, “no, you don’t. And be glad that you don’t.”

“Cas, please,” Dean knew he sounded like he was begging, but for once, he truly didn’t care, “let me help you.”

Cas turned to face Dean once more, and although Dean expected Cas to be angry, he just looked…sad. He looked at his hands and started fidgeting with the sling on his arm again. Dean simply waited, unsure of what else to say.

After about a minute, Cas looked up, eyes still filled with sadness, but half-smiling at Dean.

“I’m okay,” he said, and Dean was certain that his boyfriend was the worst liar on the planet.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel says three little words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGSTY CHAPTER. ^.^  
> Don't say I didn't warn you, darlings. I don't wanna hear that everyone's in the corner crying again.

Castiel was still a bit shaken up when Dean got him upstairs to their dorm. He’d said he was fine, but he could tell Dean didn’t believe him.

“Just lay down for a while,” Dean suggested as they made their way out of the elevator. Castiel didn’t mind not taking the stairs now that he could hardly walk straight. They walked past a few of their floor mates, who muttered their condolences and told Castiel they were glad he was okay. Apparently, everyone had heard about what happened.  _I wonder if they know how it happened._

Castiel shook his thoughts away. He was trying to grasp what had happened in car. He’d had a panic attack, Dean told him, but he was only half aware of what he’d felt. He was remembering things… things he’d pushed to the dark corners of his mind, so far back that he’d managed to completely forget about them, until the mention of Lucifer.

“Hey,” Dean said, his hand pressed to the small of Castiel’s back. He looked like he was trying to hide his concern, but Castiel saw right through him.  _Is that a soul mate thing?_ “You alright?”

“I’m…” Castiel didn’t want to lie, so he shrugged instead. Dean huffed a sigh and unlocked their room’s door. It felt good to be back in the comfort of their room, and Castiel couldn’t wait to sleep on his own bed. He stepped further inside as Dean closed the door behind them. When Castiel looked over toward his dresser, however, he froze.

“Cas, what it is?” he heard Dean ask, “Is something wrong?”

“The roses,” Castiel whispered, then turned to look at Dean, “You kept the roses.”

Dean reached up with his hand to scratch the back of his neck, something Castiel now recognized as a nervous gesture. “Well, yeah,” Dean started, looking away from Castiel, “you liked them so much, and…and you didn’t even get to enjoy them because… I mean, I couldn’t throw them away, it would feel like…” Dean took a breath and looked at Castiel again, “it would feel like giving up. On you. And I couldn’t do that. Even when the roses died, I just…” Dean swallowed, and Castiel turned to face him.

“Dean,” he said quietly, moving his good hand to rest on the side of Dean’s face. Dean leaned into the touch, biting his lip.

“I just knew you wouldn’t die,” he said, voice cracking. “I knew you’d come back…to me.”

“What did I tell you?” Castiel tipped Dean’s chip up with his fingers, forcing his green eyes to meet Castiel’s own blue ones. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean replied quickly, eyes pleading.  _Does he need proof or something?_ Castiel wondered, trying to get a read on the man in front of him.

Then Castiel made a decision. He was going to say it. He was going to tell Dean he loved him. Because it was true, he was sure of it.  _He kept the damn roses._ Castiel loved Dean – there was no denying it anymore.

“I  _do_  know,” Castiel said quietly, grabbing one of Dean’s hands and tugging. “Come.”

He walked over to his bed, sitting down and pulling Dean down beside him. Dean looked a bit confused, but his attention was focused on Castiel.

“What’s going on?” he asked, brows furrowed.

And Castiel had to smile, because  _of course,_  Dean looked as if someone was about to hit him with even more bad news.

“Relax, it’s nothing bad,” Castiel assured, resting a hand on Dean’s knee, and Dean deflated slightly.

“You’re making me nervous,” Dean whined, “Come on, just tell me what’s up.”

“Dean,” Castiel began, “I’m not going to leave you.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “And I know it, I’m so sure of it, because –.”

“Cas?” Dean interrupted, as if he was suddenly aware of what Castiel was going to say. He sounded wary, and afraid, but Castiel was afraid, too. He was nervous and scared and  _what if he doesn’t love me back?_ But he didn’t care. He had to be honest with Dean. He had to be honest for the both of them.

“Because, I –.”

“Cas –.”

“I love you.”

~

_He loves me?_

Dean didn’t know how to respond to Cas’s confession, although he wasn’t sure why. It’s not like he doubted that Cas meant what he’d just said; Cas wouldn’t have said it unless he was certain about it. But did Dean feel the same way?  _Of course you do, you bastard,_ Dean thought, getting up to pace across the room. Being so close to Cas was never good for his brain function.

“Dean?” Cas asked, voice so shaky, he sounded like a terrified child, and it made Dean squeeze his eyes shut.

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t say it, Cas.”

“I don’t understand… is that not how you feel?”

Dean was silent for a moment, still pacing, eyes refusing to leave the floor. He couldn’t look at Cas’s bruised face, scars and abrasions still visible, he couldn’t look into those incredibly blue eyes, not now, not while he hid his own heart from them.

“You…you don’t feel that way,” Cas concluded gently, and Dean looked up then, at that bruised face, at those beautiful eyes, and the way Cas was regarding him, with a combination of sadness and understanding that Dean didn’t know was possible, and  _there it is,_  he thought. That urge.

The urge to run.

It came over him like a wave, and Dean thought he was going to fall over or bolt. Walking backwards, he reached for Cas’s desk chair, spun it, and sat down. He placed his head in his hands, elbows balanced on his knees.

“You want to run,” Cas spoke again, and Dean cursed his apparent ability to read his mind.

Dean looked up. “Yes, but…”  _Not because I don’t love you,_ “it’s not… I can’t –.”

“You don’t have to say it, Dean,” Cas said quietly, pushing himself up from where he sat on his bed. Dean was on his feet immediately, in case Cas needed help, but he stood confidently, taking slow steps toward Dean. “It won’t change how I feel about you.”

“It won’t?” Dean asked, and Cas rolled his eyes.

“The fact that I love you will not change just because you don’t love me back.”

_But I do love you back,_ Dean wanted to scream, but his mouth refused to form the words. It made him horribly guilty, all over again, so he did what he was good at doing – apologizing.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, his entire body sulking. “I’m so sorry, Cas, I –.”

“Shh,” Cas hushed Dean with a finger to his lips. “It’s okay, babe.”

But Dean could tell by looking at Cas that it was not okay. His smile was small and forced, and his eyes were sad, all because Dean couldn’t say three stupid words. He couldn’t string together eight letters to form a phrase that stood for the feelings he knew he had, but for some reason, wouldn’t dare say aloud. _Always a fucking coward, Winchester._

“Babe?” Cas said again, and Dean blinked a few times to clear away the dampness that had formed behind his eyes.  _Dammit._ One tear managed to fall, but Cas wiped it away with the pad of his thumb before moving his hand to behind Dean’s neck and massaging the tense muscle there.

“Cas –.” Dean started, the name cracking in his throat. The name of his soul mate, his partner. The name of the boy who loved him.

“How many times do I have to say it till you get it through your thick skull?”

Dean raised his eyebrows because  _how is he so okay with this?_ Dean was barely keeping it together, and he wasn’t even the one who had laid himself out to be hurt. He tried to justify his selfishness by thinking of legitimate reasons why he couldn’t say the words, but he couldn’t think of anything besides his own fear. Fear that he would hurt Cas.

Fear that Cas would break him.

If he told Cas he loved him, once those words were off his tongue, there’d be no taking them back. Once he said  _I love you,_  that’d be it, he’d be done for, because Cas would have his heart in the palm of his hands; Cas would be the first thing on his mind in the morning, and the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep every night. Once he said those words, he’d be open and bleeding and vulnerable at all times, ready to be picked apart for the sake of  _Cas_ , because nothing else would matter. Dean never considered himself to be a lover, but when Dean  _did_  love, he loved fiercely, with an almost unruly passion. He thought of himself as an all-or-nothing kind of guy – he either couldn’t care less, or he cared way too much, and it terrified him. Love was weakness. Love made way for loss. His father had loved his mother and lost her. Dean loved Sam more than anyone and almost lost him. The way things were going, if he told Cas he loved him, it would only be a matter of time before Cas was gone, too. Hell, Cas was already standing bruised and broken right in front of him. He couldn’t say it _._  His heart wanted to, but his mind wouldn’t let him.

“I’ll hurt you,” Dean pleaded.

“I’ll still love you,” Cas replied.

“I’m scared,” Dean admitted.

“I am, too,” Cas chuckled, leaning in to bring their foreheads together.

“I’ll lose you,” Dean whispered, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t cry.

Cas kissed him then, and it reminded Dean of the first time he’d done it – softly, slowly. The whole time, Dean repeated  _I love you_ like a mantra in his mind, hoping beyond hope that Cas would feel it somehow, that he would sense the love that Dean couldn’t speak in words.

When Cas pulled away, he rested his good hand on Dean’s chest.

“I think I’m going to lie down now,” he said, avoiding Dean’s gaze.

“Okay,” Dean’s voice came out scratchy, and Cas looked up at him.

“Stay with me?” he asked, and how could Dean deny those eyes?

“Of course, angel,” he responded, smiling. When Cas smiled back, it seemed to be of the genuine variety, and Dean relaxed a little.

They walked back to Castiel’s bed, and Dean settled in first, pulling Cas down next to him gently. They didn’t bother with the covers; just lay atop the comforter already placed on the mattress. Cas lay on his back, his right arm slung around his middle. Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’s waist and entwined their fingers before placing his head in the crook of his neck. It was nice to finally have Cas safe in his arms after so long. Dean almost felt relived, but then he remembered Cas’s panic attack in the car. Physically, Cas would be fine, Dean knew that much, but there was something going on in that beautiful mind of his that Dean knew they’d have to discuss, sooner rather than later.

Dean tried to forget about that now, though. Cas was asleep, breathing deep and calm, and once he was absolutely positive that Cas wouldn’t hear him, Dean whispered,

_“I love you, too.”_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is a lot of fluff and a minimal amout of angst.  
> You're welcome.
> 
> P.S. Did someone say shower scene? ;D

  
Dean awoke with a start when he foundhimself alone in Cas’s bed, and may or may not have experienced complete and utter panic for about seven seconds before he heard the shower running through the bathroom door. Shakinghis head, Dean took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. He dug in his pocket for his phone and fished it out to look at the time.

_It’s only eleven?_

Dean moved to a sitting position, resting his back against the head board of the bed. He felt as if he’d slept all night, but he figured it was because he wasn’t worrying too much about Cas anymore now that he was back. Suddenly, Dean remembered the list Dr. Henricksen had given him before releasing Cas into his care. His jacket had somehow found its way to the floor and Dean reached for it, flipping it over and digging through the pockets. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled it out and tossed the jacket onto his bed. The list was a bit extensive, and had a couple prescriptions stapled to the corner of it. _Shit._ Cas was supposed to take a combination of pain meds on a daily basis now that he was out of the hospital, and Dean had completely forgotten to stop by the local pharmacy to get them.  _Guess I’ll have to make a late night run._

Just then, Dean heard the sound of something clattering to the floor of the shower. “Cas?” he asked loudly, on his feet and at the bathroom door in two seconds flat. “Cas, you okay?”

Dean heard Cas grunt before answering, “I’m fine, I just –.” Cas let out a frustrated sigh and Dean decided it was then appropriate to slowly open the door and poke his head in.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice echoing against the sound of water falling on the shower tiles.

“I need…could you, uh…?” Cas hesitated, but Dean just shook his head and chuckled, walking inside the bathroom and closing the door behind him.  _Of course, he needs help, why didn’t he ask me before?_

Cas pulled back the opaque shower door slightly, peering at Dean, who was currently getting undressed. “Don’t laugh at me,” he said sheepishly, “I thought I could do something as basic as clean myself, but apparently, I’m too injured for that.”

Dean stripped down to his boxers and contemplated losing those, too, but he realized that it would be too much of a turn on, and Cas wanted to wait.  _Slow down, cowboy._ Leaving them on, Dean walked toward the shower, mirroring Cas’s raised brow with his own.

“You’re…okay with this?” Cas asked shyly, hair full of shampoo, and squinting to keep the soap out of his eyes.

“Dude, I get to see you naked,” Dean stated, “why would I  _not_  be okay with this?”

“ _Dean,_ ” Cas whined, and rolled his eyes, then hissed when a bit of shampoo got in them, “Fuck.” He moved to rub his face with the back of his free hand, but Dean stepped into the shower then, hoarding Cas toward the pouring water so he could wash the soap out of his eyes.

“What do you need me to do?” Dean asked, attempting to ignore the fact that they were both in the shower while only one of them was fully nude.

“It’s really hard to open bottles with one hand,” Cas sighed, “especially once they’re all…soapy.”

Dean had to laugh, and was promptly rewarded with a glare from Cas. “What?” he asked, grinning.

“I’m glad you find my suffering laughable,” Cas huffed, turning away from Dean as much as he could manage in the small space between them.

“Aw, babe, come on,” Dean teased, picking up a bottle of body wash – his own, evidently – and pouring it into his hands. He rubbed his hands together and placed them on Cas’s wet shoulders. “Don’t be like that,” he whispered, and Cas made a sound of protest, but didn’t move away.  _You little shit,_ Dean thought, still grinning.

Maneuvering was awkward with the cast on Cas’s hand, but they managed easily enough, making sure every inch of Cas’s skin was lathered with soap.

“Do you know what it’s like to go twelve days without a proper shower?” Cas asked, after Dean had spun him around to wash his chest.

“Enlighten me,” Dean said, smiling.

“It’s horrid. I don’t recommend it.”

Dean chuckled in response, a bit distracted, but who could blame him? His boyfriend was standing wet and naked in front of him, and Cas was  _hot,_ all chiseled chest and toned, muscular legs, not to mention his  _spectacular_ ass. Dean wondered if Cas was a runner in high school. Cas Jr. wasn’t lacking, either, but when Dean had commented, Cas had actually slapped him. Dean had tried to hide his amusement, but failed miserably.

He pondered for a moment about how _not awkward_ this was, which was strange. It’s not like Dean had never seen a guy naked before – he prided himself on how many guys (and girls) he _had_ seen naked – but this wasn’t just anyone, this was  _Cas_. This was his soul mate. Dean knew Cas wanted to take things slow, so they should feel at least _a little_  uncomfortable about showering together, right?

Regardless, Dean wasn’t complaining.

“Alright, rinse time.”

Cas moved away from Dean to stand directly underneath the showerhead, and Dean couldn’t help but stare. With his back to Dean, Castiel’s tattoo was on full display. It seemed to glisten as water ran down his skin, over and around defined muscle. Dean reached out to trace the ink with his fingers, slowly ghosting them over Castiel’s pale skin, and the sound Cas made as he did so was the  _filthiest thing_  Dean had ever heard come out of that boy’s mouth.

Dean moved his fingers away, gaping, and Cas turned to face him, face flushed in embarrassment.

“Cas,  _Jesus –.”_

“Sorry,” he blurted, “I didn’t mean to – I couldn’t help –.”

“Cas, it’s fine,” Dean assured him. A short laugh escaped them both, and Dean found himself stepping forward to wrap his arms around Cas’s neck and kissing him gently on the lips.

“It was hot,” Dean whispered, and Cas shivered. Satisfied, Dean pulled away, placing enough distance between them so that he could see all of Cas.

“You’re staring at me,” Cas observed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. It was true, Dean was staring, again. He drew his eyes up to look Cas in the face.

“You’re beautiful,” Dean said honestly, because Cas was  _gorgeous,_ and all at once, it floored him.He almost couldn’t wrap his head around it, but then Cas was blushing like a schoolgirl, and Dean remembered that he would get to keep Cas. This wasn’t some temporary thing. This was permanent. “You’re beautiful, and you’re mine.”

~

“Yours,” Castiel heard himself say before his lips were on Dean’s once more.  _God._ He lost his ability to think when Dean pressed his back against the tile wall. His body hummed for more, but even if he hadn’t already decided to wait, he was in no shape for extraneous sexual activity. This, though, this he could do; slow, wet kisses and eager hands and quiet moans didn’t hurt a bit.

Castiel wasn’t sure how long they’d been kissing, but unfortunately it was long enough for the water to get cold.

“Dammit,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s neck, reaching for the shower knob to stop the water from running.

“Princess,” Castiel mocked, and Dean’s head snapped up.

“What did you just call me?”

“Prin–cess,” Castiel repeated, smirking.

Dean raised a brow, eyes flashing with mischief. “Are you trying to get a rise out of me? Because let me assure you, you got a rise out of  _something_ , alright.”

“Oh  _god_ , Dean,” Castiel rolled his eyes but he could feel himself start to blush. He moved Dean out of the way so he could grab the towel that was hanging over the shower door and wrapped himself in it.

“Where’s my towel?” Dean asked.

“It seems you didn’t bother getting it before you came in here,” Castiel shrugged. “Oh well.” He stepped out of the shower and heard Dean follow him out.

“You’re a little shit, ya know that?” Dean said, finding his towel on the hook behind the bathroom door and drying himself off.

Grinning, Castiel secured his own towel around his waist. “You love me,” he said confidently, and then froze.  _Fuck._ He spun around, hand covering his mouth. “Dean, I didn’t mean – shit – sorry, it just slipped out, I’m not trying to – ugh, fuck.”

Dean blinked at him, twice, and then shook his head and regained his composure. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled. It looked forced.

“It’s fine, Cas, no worries,” Dean shrugged, and Castiel was about to respond when he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. His vision blurred and he almost doubled over, but he felt Dean’s hands on his arms, holding him somewhat upright.

“Hey, hey, whoa, Cas, what’s wrong? You okay?”

“My ribs,” Castiel ground out, wincing at the pain, “it’s like my whole midsection is on fire.”

“Oh, fuck, I was supposed to get you your meds – fuck!” Dean yelled, at himself, Castiel could tell. “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot. Here, come on, you’ve gotta lie down.”

Dean led Castiel out of the bathroom and towards Dean’s bed, since it was closest. Castiel sat down, and Dean leaned him onto his side, fluffing a pillow before sliding it underneath his head. Castiel watched Dean get up and rummage though his drawers before he pulled out a white t-shirt and a black pair of basketball shorts.

“Can you sit up a little so I can get this shirt on you?” Dean asked, and Castiel nodded, using his elbow as leverage to get himself up. Dean pulled the shirt on over his head and helped him get his arms into the sleeves. Then he slid the shorts onto Castiel’s legs, moving the towel out of the way so that they sat snug on his hips. Once Castiel was clothed, Dean pulled the sheets up over him before his began dressing himself. He was moving quickly, almost sporadically. He changed into a plaid button up and a ratty pair of jeans, and stuck his sock-less feet into his Chuck Taylors.  _He’s going to get the meds now?_

“Dean,” Castiel grunted, fighting through another wave of pain.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asked, eyes wide and filled with concern and something else…  _guilt?_

“Dean, it’s late, you don’t have to –.”

“I do, Cas, you were supposed to take these pills hours ago, that’s why you’re in so much pain!”

“Dean –,” Castiel began, but Dean was already grabbing his keys and his wallet, and what looked like the list Dr. Henricksen had given him.

“I’ll be right back, okay angel? Don’t move, I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And with that, Dean was out the door, leaving no time for Castiel to protest

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Were pharmacies even open this late?  _Wait, the university pharmacy is 24/7,_ Dean remembered.  _Duh._ The pharmacy was only a few blocks from the dorm, so Dean jogged all the way there. When he stepped through the automatic doors, he paused for a few seconds to catch his breath.  _Wow, I am out of shape._ There were only a few students inside, a couple by the freezers, and group of kids – obviously freshman – milling about the isles buying late night snacks.

Dean made his way to the back of the store where the pharmacy desk was located. The girl behind the counter was reading a magazine and didn’t look much older than Dean.  _Probably a grad student,_ Dean thought.

“You get stuck with the night shift?” Dean asked as he approached. The girl looked up from her magazine, startled, but then she smiled. She placed her magazine underneath the counter and pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“Yup, it’s the best,” she replied, sarcastically. “What can I help you with tonight?”

“Well, uh…” Dean squinted to read the name tag on the pharmacist’s top, “Tessa, I’m basically the worst caretaker in the world and forgot to get my boyfriend’s prescriptions filled.” He pulled the doctor’s list out of his jacket pocket and ripped off the prescription slips, sliding them across the counter. “So, if you could fill these out for me, I’d be forever grateful.”

Tessa laughed when Dean flashed a big smile. “You’re kind of adorable, you know that?” she said, picking up the slips of paper and sorting through them.

“So I’ve been told,” Dean chided. “I’m Dean, by the way. I, uh, hope you can read that chicken scratch. Doctor’s, I swear. It’s like they never learned how to write!”

“You’re telling me! I have to read these things all day, and let me tell you, it is not fun,” Tessa responded. “But I think I can make these out. Your boyfriend must have just had surgery or something; these are pretty strong drugs.”

“Yeah, there was an incident, and Cas, he…” Dean trailed off, looking down at where his hands were folded on the counter. Guilt rose in his gut and threatened to pull him under.  _As if I wasn’t feeling guilty enough already. Dammit._

“Hey,” Tessa said quietly, placing a hand over Dean’s, “I don’t need to know. Let me get these filled for you, okay?” she smiled, and Dean smiled back.

 

“Thanks,” he answered. Dean turned and shifted his body so he was leaning his hip against the counter, then looked through Dr. Henricksen’s list again. It mostly included things that Cas could and could not do in his injured state, and appointments for getting Cas’s hand recast and his stitches taken out. Near the bottom of the list, and couple things were jotted down –  _optional:_   _scar cream for scars, one of those heat/cool patches for pain._

 _I can get those now,_ Dean thought. He walked through a couple isles looking for scar cream, choosing the first one he saw. The heat/cool patches, though, came in every shape and size imaginable.  _Why the hell are there so many kinds?_ After some thinking, Dean decided to get the extra strength disposable ones.

“Dean?” he heard Tessa call.

“Over here,” he called back, making his way toward the pharmacy desk again. “Got the meds already?”

“Mhm, right here,” Tessa handed him a bag. “Your boyfriend’s name is on the prescription – Castiel Novak, is it? – so I charged the fees to his school account. That okay?”

“I think so,” Dean nodded, and then placed the scar cream and patches on the counter. He turned to look behind him when he heard someone run out of the store and raised a brow.  _Weird._ Then he turned back toward Tessa. “Can I pay for these here, too?”

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, ringing them up quickly, placing them in a bag and handing Dean a receipt after he paid. “I wish I had a partner who took care of me like you do for this Castiel,” she chuckled, “your boyfriend’s a lucky guy.”

“He might disagree with you there,” Dean laughed. “Thanks again, Tessa. See you around?”

“I’m here every night,” Tessa shrugged, smiling, “so, most likely, yes.”

Dean gave her a small wave goodbye before heading out the door. He was a bit surprised because Tessa was actually really cute, and yet he’d remained completely neutral and friendly.  _Guess this whole boyfriend thing is growing on me,_ he thought, smiling to himself. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was a little past midnight. The air was cooler than usual, and Dean realized that it was October.  _Time flies._

There was a man having a loud conversation on the phone near the corner of the store, holding a cigarette between their fingers. Dean had smoked a lot while Cas was in the hospital, in order to keep his stress levels in check, but now that Cas was safe, Dean didn’t crave them anymore.

The guy was definitely a student; he wore a university sweater. Dean wondered if he knew him, but as soon as the man spotted him, he immediately lowered his voice and turned away from him.  _What’s that guy’s issue?_ Dean thought, briskly walking past him and around the corner. Once he did so, the man’s voice rose again, and Dean caught a bit of the conversation.

“I said I’m positive, okay? The kid’s still alive!”

Dean stilled, turning his head to listen closer.  _No way in hell…_

“I told you, man, the chick at the counter said his name, and the guy called him his boyf- no, he’s not with him right n- would you listen for a second? Just shut up!”

Dean’s entire body went rigid.  _Shut up shut up shutupshutupshutup,_ the words looped though his mind; he recognized that voice. He’d memorized it from Cas’s voice mail message.  _He’s one of them,_ Dean thought, frozen with disbelief,  _he’s one of the guys who jumped Cas._

As if to confirm Dean’s assumption, the man then ended his conversation with a laugh and said, “Have fun telling Lucifer about this one. Told you we should have beat up that Castiel kid some more.”

Dean wasn’t sure when he’d dropped the bag he was carrying, because his reflexes took over and he found himself pulling the man from the front of the pharmacy and hauling him by the collar of his sweater back around the corner. The student yelped in surprise when Dean shoved him against the wall, wedging his forearm underneath the man’s chin and pressing hard.

“You,” Dean growled, anger running hot through his veins, “you were one of them, weren’t you?”

“Don’t… know what… you’re talking about,” the man said between gasps, pushing against Dean, but Dean was bigger than him. The man was tall, but scrawny.

“Don’t play stupid, I heard you!” Dean shouted, leaning more heavily on the student, “You friends with that son of a bitch Lucifer? You help him beat the shit out of his own brother?”

The guy’s face suddenly went all too calm, and a lazy smile appeared on his lips. Dean felt something cold and sharp press against his abdomen, and the man spoke, voice low and rough. “Back up, or I’ll gut you right here.”

Dean tensed,  _that’s a knife that’s a fucking knife,_  and although he knew that now would be an appropriate time to run, he needed answers.  _You need to get back to Cas, you idiot, this guy has a knife!_ Slowly, Dean backed away, fists clenched at his sides.

“Who are you,” Dean asked, furious.

The kid rubbed at his neck before responding. “People call me Al, short for Alistair,” he sneered, playing the knife in his hands.

“Yeah, and I’m Dean, short for I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass. Enough with the pleasantries, I wanna know why you wanted Cas dead. Where’s Lucifer?”

“You know what I’m good at?” Al mused, completely ignoring Dean’s questions, “Torturing people. That’s my special talent. I know, I know, I’m young, why would I want to do something like that? Well, college is expensive, the pay is great, and The Garrison pays really well.”

“The Garrison? The drug cartel?” Dean asked. He’d heard of the group before he’d transferred to the university; they were rumored to have sold to students around campus.

“Hell yeah, man! Universities are breeding grounds for drugs, so I work the business here, send the money to another guy, and keep my 15%. It’s pretty great.”

Dean shook his head.  _This doesn’t make any sense._ “Wait, so what does this have to do with Cas?”

Al laughed, and the sound made Dean cringe. “Lucifer had a…vendetta of sorts. Apparently his family disowned him? Anyway, he blamed Castiel, told us all if he ever got his hands on him, he’d kill him. And guess who found poor little Castiel, right here, of all places?”

Dean narrowed his eyes, nails digging into his palms to keep himself from lunging at the man in front of him, “You.”

“Correct! Very good,” Al mocked, still playing with his knife. “Lucifer put a price on his brother’s head, and I’ve been swimming in money for a while now, but apparently,” Al spat, “that little shit is still alive.”

“Keep talking and you won’t be alive for much longer,” Dean snarled, but Al only laughed again.

“Oh, Dean, you’re hilarious. Look, you make a move, and I’ll gut you. You try and tell the police about this? I’ll make sure there’s a price on  _your_ head.”

Dean couldn’t tell if Alistair was bluffing or not. He’d helped beat up Cas, so Dean figured he’d have no problem stabbing someone. He couldn’t afford to put Cas in any more danger, either.

“Fine,” Dean ground out, “you stay the fuck away from Cas, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“See, now that we’re all being civil, no one has to get hurt.” Al hid his knife away somewhere under his sweater, “It was nice speaking with you, Dean. Have fun nursing your little boyfriend back to health.”

With that, Alistair walked off, stooping once to pick up the phone he’d dropped earlier before turning the corner and disappearing from Dean’s sight.

“This isn’t over!” Dean called after him, but only heard Al’s creepy laughter in response.

Inhaling deeply, Dean made himself move to pick up the bag he’d dropped. He paused for a moment, leaning his forehead against the brick of the pharmacy building. “Fuck,” he said to himself, “fuck, fuck, fuck!” He slammed his fist into the brick, regretting the action immediately when he felt his skin rip and his bones throb with pain.

“Way to go, Winchester,” he huffed, wincing as he flexed his fingers to make sure none of them were broken.  _I’ve gotta get to Cas,_ Dean remembered. He started jogging back to his dorm, but picked up his pace as he got closer. He took the stairs up to his floor, and by the time he made it to the door of his room, he was almost out of breath. He dug though his pockets for his keys, cursing at the pain in his hand.

“Shit,” he whispered, flexing his fingers again. He managed to get the door open and walked inside, expecting Cas to be asleep, but after closing the door behind him, Dean turned to find blue eyes staring at him.

“You’re awake?” Dean asked.

“Where have you been?” Cas moved to sit up straighter and winced, one hand pressing against his side, “Of course I’m awake, I was worried! You left almost an hour ago, but the pharmacy is just down the street, so I thought you – I thought – and I don’t have my damn phone, so I couldn’t call to see if you were okay and –.”

“Whoa, Cas, slow down,” Dean interrupted, walking toward the bed and setting the bag down on the floor. He took Cas’s face in his hands and looked him in the eyes. “I’m alright, okay? I’m right here. Lay back down, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Cas blinked up at Dean, panic melting into muted worry, “You said you’d be right back,” he whispered, and Dean shook his head.

“I’m sorry, angel, I just… I ran into someone, while I was there, that’s all.” Dean didn’t want to lie to Cas, but he couldn’t handle explaining what had happened.

“You sure, babe?” Cas asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean smiled, “Yes, stop reading me. Here,” Dean picked up the bag at his feet and pulled out three pill bottles. “You need to take these.”

“All of them?” Cas took one of the bottles and read the label. “Simultaneously?”

“They’re for pain, Cas, and making sure your wound doesn’t get infected. Come on, you need ‘em.”

“Alright, alright,” Cas replied, reaching to grab the other bottles, but stopped. “What the hell happened to your hand!?”

 _Crap._ “I, uh, I fell on the way here. No big deal.”

Cas took the bottles from Dean and placed them on his bedside table, turned on the lamp, and then sat up some more to further inspect his hand. He brushed at his skin lightly, then turned his hand over and sighed. “If you fell, your palms would be scraped, and they’re not.” Cas looked up at Dean, blue eyes pleading. “You’re lying to me.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  _Of course._ “Cas-.”

“What really happened, Dean? You can tell me, okay? I want to know.”

How could Dean lie to those eyes? “Fine, fine,” Dean agreed, “but you have to promise not to freak out, alright?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments! Here's part 19 for ya'll. Things are still angsty and feelsy sORRY IN ADVANCE. <3

Castiel freaked out.

First, Dean had asked him take his medication, to which Castiel reluctantly obliged. Dean moved to sit, cross-legged, next to Castiel on his bed. He’d told him about Tessa, and the man on the phone, and what he overheard. Castiel listened attentively until Dean told him who the man actually was.

“Alistair was his name, but the second he mentioned Lucifer, I knew he was one of them.”

Confused, Castiel asked, “One of whom?”

Dean sighed. “One of them, Cas; one of the guys who attacked you that night.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide, “He… wait, so you just happened to walk by one of the ruffians who…who did this to me, and you had a nice little conversation with him!?”

“No, Cas, God, it’s not like I befriended the guy!”

“He could have hurt you!”

“No, he –!” Dean stopped, then, chewing on the inside of his cheek, he mumbled, “Well, he did have a knife –.”

“He had a what!?” Castiel exclaimed, and then winced. The pain at his surgical sight was now just a dull throb instead of sharp pain, but apparently, it still ached if he exerted too much energy.

“Shit, you okay, Cas? Does it hurt?” Dean placed a tentative hand over Castiel’s middle.

Castiel took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m fine. Did you at least call the police?”

“The police? No, I couldn’t –.”

Castiel’s eyes flew open. Is he fucking serious right now!? “One of the men who almost killed me had a knife to you, and you didn’t think to call the police?”

“I needed answers, Cas! I needed him to tell me why they did this to you!”

“And what good does that do, huh?” Castiel questioned, feeling angry. He wasn’t sure if it was Dean he was angry at – stubborn, stupid Dean who’d just risked his life and acted like that was no big deal – or just the situation.

“What do you mean? If we know why Lucifer targeted you, then –.”

“Then what, Dean? You could tell me all about my long lost brother and how he hates me so much he’s willing to kill me? You could tell me everything, while this Alistair bastard walks free, and I’ll probably just have another panic attack or a flashback or –.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, like what happened in the car?”

 

“What?” Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, Castiel thought when he realized what he said. Shit. No one knew about Castiel’s condition, not officially. Besides the car incident, he hadn’t had an episode in years – not since Uncle Zachariah moved out of his house. He was 18 when that finally happened, and legally able to care for his younger siblings on his own. For six years, Castiel endured a cruelty like he’d never known in the hands of his uncle, but it only began after Lucifer had been forced to leave. His memories were fractured because he’d deliberately tried to forget – pushed it all so far back, he couldn’t even reach the details of what happened. But now…

“Cas?” Castiel heard Dean ask, pulling him out of his thoughts. He sounded worried.

“Hmm?” Castiel replied, not trusting himself to speak. He kept his eyes closed.

“Cas, you’re shaking,” Dean said, moving to hold Castiel’s shoulders, but Castiel flinched the moment he felt Dean’s hands on him.

Castiel opened his eyes to see Dean immediately pull his hands away. Dammit.

“Sorry,” Castiel whispered, quickly reaching for Dean’s hands and holding them in his own. He frowned at the bruised skin on Dean’s right knuckle and kissed it. “I’m sorry,” he said again, looking back up at Dean, “Something seems to be wrong with me.”

“Cas, nothing’s wrong with you, okay?” Dean said quietly, “This is a lot to deal with. I shouldn’t have told you –.”

“No, I asked you; I wanted to know. I need to know.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re in no shape to handle this right now –.”

“Dean, come on,” Cas pleaded, because he’d already made a fool of himself twice now, and although it wouldn’t be pleasant, he knew he needed to know what happened. “You can tell me.”

“No, Cas. I’m not going to put you through this right now.”

“But Dean, I –.”

“Baby, please,” Dean begged, sounding broken and desperate, and all the words Castiel planned on saying died in his throat.

“Please,” Dean repeated, “don’t make me put you thought this. Don’t make me hurt you again.”

Castiel tilted his head, blinking a few times to get his mind working again. He called me ‘baby.’ He reached out with his good hand to bring Dean’s face nearer to his own and pressed their foreheads together. Dean’s eyes were downcast.

“Look at me,” Castiel half-demanded, rubbing Dean’s cheek with his thumb.

“I’ve hurt you so much already,” Dean whispered, still looking down. Castiel was surprised when he heard him huff out a laugh. “This… this whole thing is crazy,” Dean continued, “and half of me wants Lucifer or one of his goons to show up and try something again, just so I can kick their ass.”

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, “look at me.”

When Dean looked up, Castiel could see the anger in his face slowly drain away into sadness. Castiel narrowed his eyes. “You’re not blaming yourself for any of this, are you?” he asked.

Dean stared for a second before looking down at his lap again. “You called me that night and –.”

“No, Dean, we aren’t going there,” Castiel stated firmly, finding one of Dean’s hands with his own and squeezing. “Even if you’d picked up, Lucifer would have hurt me anyway, and I still would have ended up in a coma. You just would have known sooner –.”

“I was drunk.”

Castiel blinked. “What?”

~

Dean sighed. He didn’t want to talk about that night, but he already had one foot in the water. Might as well dive in.

“I was drunk,” Dean repeated, “the night you called me, I was drunk and my phone died and I was too wasted to notice, or care.”

“Were you at a party or something?” Cas asked, and Dean could tell by the way he was asking that Cas honestly didn’t mind his drinking, didn’t think of it as an issue at all. Now he felt even worse.

“No I wasn’t at a party,” Dean spat, suddenly disgusted with himself, “I was at Benny’s, getting shitfaced…because of you.”

Dean didn’t look up, but he felt Cas pull his hand away from where it had gripped his own.

The loss of contact felt like rejection, and it made Dean’s stomach twist.

“Me?” Cas asked, so quietly that Dean had to look up. Cas sounded puzzled, but more than anything, he looked hurt. He fiddled with the sling on his arm, adjusting the strap and avoiding Dean’s gaze. “What did I do?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing, Cas, we just… we fought that morning, remember? It was stupid; you wanted me to help with some project and I was gonna put it off until the last minute, and then you –.” Dean took a breath. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop. “You blew me off, Cas, and I don’t blame you for that, but you walked out, slammed the door, and I felt like…it felt –.”

“It felt like I left you,” Cas finished, and Dean nodded.

“So I called Benny, had him pick me up, and I got wasted at his place so I wouldn’t have to think about you. Or how bad I felt about upsetting you, or how much I didn’t deserve you, or how bad I had screwed up already –.”

“Dean –.”

“– or how I was bound to end up alone, or how this was too good to be true, or –”

“Dean!” Cas yelled, startling Dean so much that he actually shut up. “What did I tell you?” he asked, placing his good hand on Dean’s cheek. Cas stared at Dean with his gorgeous blue eyes, and Dean felt like he was melting before Cas even said a word. After what seemed like hours, Cas spoke.

“I’m not going to leave you.”

Oh, yeah, Dean was definitely melting.

~

After half an hour of making out, and a few minutes of apologizing every so often when Dean got a little too rough, Castiel finally agreed to let Dean tell him about the conversation he had with Alistair on another day.

“Hmm, this week,” Castiel mumbled into Dean’s side where his head lay. They had maneuvered themselves into a position that was awkward, but comfortable. Castiel’s legs trapped one of Dean’s between them, while his broken hand rested low on Dean’s waist. Castiel hummed with pleasure every time Dean ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s messy hair. Dean’s free leg was bent, his foot tapping out silent rhythms on the mattress. His other hand was placed behind his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replied sleepily, “Only if…”

“If?” Castiel asked when Dean didn’t continue. He looked up when he heard Dean sigh. “Dean, if what?”

“Only if you tell me what the hell happened with your uncle!”

Castiel winced. “My uncle?”

“Zachariah.”

“Oh,” Castiel untangled himself from Dean and moved to sit up at the edge of the bed, feet touching the wood floors. He didn’t want to talk about his uncle. He didn’t want to remember his uncle, or the years he had lived with Castiel and his siblings. He’d spent years forgetting, and now Dean wanted to know?

“Cas?”

He remembered Gabriel had asked, once, why Castiel had changed – why he was actually doing what Uncle Zach told him to do, why he was following orders instead of just doing what he thought was right. He’d scolded him then, told him that he shouldn’t be asking so many questions. At 11, Gabe wasn’t very resilient, so he didn’t demand answers. Castiel was glad for it. But Dean wasn’t Gabriel; Dean was his soul mate.

“Cas!”

Castiel flinched. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said without turning around. “I don’t think I can talk about that.”

“Cas, come on.” Castiel heard Dean start to move toward him and stood up to walk around the room. “Cas?”

Castiel paced as he thought. How was he supposed to explain to Dean that he was abused for six years and didn’t tell anyone about it? Didn’t do anything about it? He didn’t want to do anything now because that would mean he would have to remember – he’d have to reach deep into the crevices of his mind and replay the nightmares he spent months training himself to stop thinking about.

“Baby?” Dean asked softly, finally earning him Castiel’s full attention. He turned to face Dean from where he stood near the bathroom door.

“I don’t know how,” Castiel breathed, trying to steady himself, “I don’t… there are things that happened that I can’t – Dean, I want to tell you, I do,” he promised, because he really did, “but I don’t know how to tell you. There’s just so much, and –.”

“Hey,” Dean cut it, sitting up straighter, “you don’t have to tell me now, okay? It’s been a long night. Just… just come back to bed, angel.”

With a heavy sigh, Castiel complied, glad that the conversation was over for now. But if he knew his boyfriend at all, he knew that Dean would want answers, and soon. He climbed back into the bed and felt Dean’s arms wrap around his frame, and prayed that he hadn’t remembered enough to have bad dreams.

But when Dean whispered goodnight and kissed his forehead, he knew he’d be okay.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: PLOT DEVELOPMENT, FLUFF, AND SAMMY! C:  
> (I'll get to your comments when I can! I read them all. Thank you so much, bbys!)

Dean awoke to Castiel whispering on the phone. By the amount sunshine peeking through the blinds of the window above Dean’s bed, he could tell that it was still early. It was Friday, he remembered. Doesn’t Cas have class soon?

“What do you mean you haven’t seen him in a month?” Dean heard Cas whisper, and he didn’t sound happy. Although he knew it was wrong, Dean couldn’t help but eavesdrop. He closed his eyes and listened in.

“But Anna, last month when I asked you if Dad knew you were working, you said – …so you lied to me? Why didn’t you just tell me that? I could have… Anna, come on, I wouldn’t have freaked I just – well yes, because you shouldn’t be home alone! You’re only 17 and you still need superv- … Okay whatever, can you get a hold of Dad now?” Dean heard Cas sigh then, and opened one eyes to see Cas let his head fall into his hand as he moved his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Where the hell could he be?” Cas continued, voice hushed. “I was in a fucking coma for crying out loud! You think the man would come out of hiding to make sure his own son is still alive. I just don’t understand – yeah, yeah I gotta go, too. Please be careful, Anna. And call Balthy. I don’t care, you can’t be home alone for that long without… okay, and what if something did go wrong? My decision is final, Anna. Call your cousin. Wow, thanks, love you, too.”

Dean heard Cas click off his phone and set it down on the side table. He shut his eyes and relaxed his face, pretending to be asleep. What the hell was that about? I’ll have to ask about that call later. Cas shifted in the bed, sliding back down until his chest was flush against Dean’s back. Dean felt Cas kiss his neck, and figured it was safe to wake up. With a soft groan, Dean turned onto his back, and Cas leaned over his face to kiss the tip of his nose.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he whispered, and Dean chuckled.

 

“I like ‘sunshine’ better than ‘princess,’” he said, blinking his eyes open and adjusting to the onslaught of sunlight.

“Good, because I think I’ll call you that more often,” Cas replied cheekily. He brushed the dirty blonde hair off of Dean’s forehead. It was getting long. I need a trim.

“How’s the pain, blue eyes?” Dean asked, earning a smile, and a short kiss, from Cas. “Only one?” he whined.

Cas rolled his eyes and kissed him again, four more times. “There,” he teased, rolling away from Dean and onto his own back. He spread his right hand over his surgical site, above his – well, Dean’s – shirt. “The pain is alright, for now. Am I supposed to take my meds in the morning?”

“Yeah, twice a day,” Dean stated, stifling a yawn. “Don’t you have class soon, baby?” It surprised Dean how easy it was to call Cas the pet name he’d only ever assigned to his car. But it rolled off his tongue so seamlessly, and Cas didn’t seem to mind.

“Dammit,” Cas groaned, moving his hand to place it over his face. “I’ve got a 9AM.”

“Well it’s, uh…” Dean brought his arm up to check his watch. “It’s like 8:15, and you need to eat before you take those pills. The pharmacist said they were really strong.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Cas mumbled, sitting up straight in the bed. “You don’t have class today, do you?”

“Nope,” Dean answered, climbing out of bed. “So I’m gonna get breakfast with you.”

“Oh, Dean, you don’t have to do that,” Cas protested “Stay in bed! You must be exhausted –.”

“Don’t bother arguing, angel,” Dean sang, “You have no say in the matter. So get dressed and I’ll carry your books like a good boyfriend, okay?”

When Cas didn’t answer, Dean turned around to find him still sitting on his bed, head tilted slightly as he started at Dean in what looked like awe.

“What?” Dean asked as he felt his cheeks heat.

“I love you,” Cas responded, so simply, so effortlessly that Dean could only blink as his face got even hotter. Then Cas shook his head and stood, “Ugh, I’m sorry I keep doing that, Dean, does… does it bother you? When I just say it like that? I can stop –.”

“No,” Dean said quickly, stepping closer to Cas, “no, it’s okay, I… I can get used to hearing it.” He shrugged. “It might take a while to get used to, but I… it sounds nice.” He smiled and placed a hand on the side of Cas’s face. “Real nice.”

It was Cas’s turn to blush. “Oh. Okay, well good.” He bit his lip. “Could you, uh…” Cas moved his casted arm around. “I’m gonna need help getting, um, dressed.”

Dean laughed. “Of course, Cas, just let me get dressed first and then we can get you out of my clothes.”

Cas rolled his eyes while he walked toward his closet. “Dean, I doubt that the fact that I’m wearing your clothes bothers you at all.”

“You’re right,” Dean chimed, sorting through the clothes in his closet. He picked out a pair of faded jeans he didn’t remember he had, and a long sleeved grey shirt. He changed quickly, pulled on his chucks, and then went over to Cas’s side of the room to help him into khaki’s (big surprise there) and a blue sweater.

“You ready to go?” Dean asked, stuffing his wallet and a key into his back pocket. He picked up Cas’s books and carried his laptop bag.

“Mhm,” Cas answered, sorting out his pills in his palm and swallowing them down with the rest of a bottle of water. “Let’s go.”

~

The dining hall wasn’t too crowded; a lot of students who had classes that early didn’t bother with breakfast. Castiel nudged Dean as they walked toward a table near the windows.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Uh,” Dean set the textbooks down on the table and glanced at his watch, “8:37, so we’ve got like 20 minutes, relax. You won’t be late to class.”

“I know, Dean, I’ve just missed so much, and I would rather not miss any more.” Castiel plopped down into one of the four chairs at the table with a huff. He could see Dean rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision before he leaned down in front of him, his freckled hands a steady weight on his knees.

“Cas, you were in a coma. I think your professors will cut you some slack.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try to relax,” Castiel sighed, and Dean smiled. He leaned up for a kiss, and just as their lips touched, Castiel heard someone call out.

“Ew, gross! Get a room, you guys, sheesh.”

Dean pulled away so quickly he almost tripped over his own feet. Once he found his balance again, he turned to face the person who shouted at them.

“Dammit, Sam! Was that really necessary?”

Oh, Cas thought, looking over to the tall boy with moppy brown hair, Dean’s younger brother, Sam!

“According to the look on your face? Yes, that was extremely necessary,” Sam smirked.

Dean grunted before turning back to Cas. “You remember Sammy, right?”

“Of course, your brother.” Castiel turned to face Sam, “It’s nice to see you again, Sam.”

“You too, man,” Sam replied, dropping his bag into a chair and sitting down in the one next to it.

“Oh, so you’re just gonna assume I’m okay with you sitting with us?” Dean sneered, but Castiel could tell he was only making fun.

“I don’t mind if he sits here, Dean,” Castiel shrugged before smiling, “don’t be such a princess.”

Sam instantly started coughing, a sad attempt to cover his laugh. Dean stared daggers at Castiel, and in return, Castiel blew him a kiss and asked, “Can you get me some cereal, sunshine?”

Sam grinned at this, and Dean covered his face with his hands. “What kind do you want, Cas.”

“Honey-Nut, pretty please?”

“Will you stop talking to me like that if I get you your damn cereal?” Dean asked, barely containing his frustration. It was fun to see Dean all riled up, Castiel thought. He’s so adorable.

“Sure thing, babe,” Castiel answered sweetly. Dean groaned before walking away towards the breakfast foods. Sam finally let himself laugh.

“I really likes you,” he said between giggles, “That was hilarious; Dean would never let anyone else talk to him like that. Man, he must have it bad for you.”

Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess he likes me quite a bit.”

“I’d say it’s way more than a bit,” Sam responded.

Castiel was about to mention that he loved Dean, but then he remembered that Dean hadn’t said it back. His shoulders sagged a little, thinking about that, and he decided that he would rather not discuss his love life with his boyfriend’s little brother – Dean would probably lose it if he found out, anyway.

“He’s a bit overprotective,” Castiel said instead, to which Sam nodded.

“He gets that way with people he cares about, especially when they’re hurt.” Sam gestured toward Castiel’s broken hand. “But he means well. He did the same thing to me after the truck accident.”

“Dean told me about that, yes. But you’re okay now, right?” Castiel didn’t know if Sam was as sensitive about the topic as Dean was, so he didn’t want to cross any lines.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam shrugged. “How about you? Gabe told me about your long lost broth-.”

“You’ve been talking to Gabriel?” Castiel asked, surprised. They’d only met a few days ago, and it didn’t seem like Sam liked Gabriel at all. “Did he do something? I swear, that boy –.”

“No, no, he uh, found me online. Through Dean, I guess. We started chatting yesterday. I was going to ignore him,” Sam said with a sigh, “but he mentioned you and Dean, so I figured the conversation wouldn’t be too annoying.”

“Oh,” Cas muttered, “so, what did he tell you about? My brother?”

“Yeah, he mentioned your older brother, and how he basically wants you, um, not alive.”

Castiel was silent for a beat, but before he could say anything, Sam spoke up again.

“Look, I know it’s not really any of my business, but you’re my brother’s soul mate, so you’re kind of like family now, anyway. I want him to be happy, but he won’t be happy if you’re not alright. From what Gabe has told me, you’ve been through a lot.”

“You could say that,” Castiel remarked, sarcastically.

“Right, well after the truck incident, I was really messed up. Couldn’t even get near the impala without freaking out. You know what helped me?”

“What?” Castiel asked.

“Therapy.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Therapy?”

“Yeah, therapy. Dean thought it was kinda stupid that I was going, so if you decide to try it, he probably won’t be all for it at first. I’m not sure if you noticed by now, but Dean likes to fix problems – even if they’re not his fault.”

“I’ve definitely noticed that,” Castiel sighed. It hurt him that Dean felt so much responsibility when there was no need for it.

“But don’t let that stop you from trying it. It really does work. Here,” Sam unzipped the front pocket of his bag and pulled out a business card. “That’s my doctor. It’s a private practice, and the doctor’s will literally meet with you anywhere, or just take appointments over the phone. It worked for me because my family moves around so much.”

Castiel looked over the card. Charlie Bradbury, MD. Psychiatrist. “Thanks, Sam,” Castiel looked up. “I’ll consider it.”

“Consider what?” Dean asked, appearing with two plates of pancakes and a bowl of cereal.

“Nothing,” Castiel said quickly, carefully taking the bowl from Dean’s hand. “Thanks for the cereal, babe.”

“You’re welcome, angel.” He turned to Sam, “Shut it. Here’s your pancake, sasquatch.”

“Aw, thanks Dean. And I get a nickname, too!” Sam teased, digging in.

“I said shut it!” Dean scowled. Sam and Castiel laughed.

“Don’t be such a princess,” Sam mimicked, and Dean stuck his tongue out at him. Sam scoffed. “Very mature, Dean.”

Castiel chuckled and slid his right hand below the table while Sam wasn’t looking, squeezing Dean’s left knee. Dean stiffened a bit, but kept eating, avoided his boyfriend’s gaze. When Castiel moved his hand away, however, he caught a hint of a smile on Dean’s lips.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tells Sam his secret. 
> 
> Cas tells Dean about therapy.

“So do you love him?”

Dean almost spat out his drink at Sam’s query. “Sammy!” Dean coughed, “You can’t just ask me something like that!”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t see what the huge deal is, Dean. You either love him or you don’t.” They were sitting on a bench outside of the mathematics building, waiting for Cas to get out of calculus. It was Friday, so Dean didn’t have any classes. Sam had the same math class right after Cas ( _freakin’ nerds_ ), and some time to kill, so he’d offered to sit and wait with Dean.

“It’s not… that simple,” Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. When Sam looked at him expectantly, he groaned and set the bottle of Pepsi he was holding down between his shoes, and then placed his head in his hands. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk if you stop looking at me like that.”

“Fine,” Sam sat back and closed his eyes. “Pretend I’m not here, okay? Just talk.”

He knew Sam was giving him an out, a chance to walk away and play it off as a prank. But Dean also knew that he had to tell  _someone._

“Alright, so uh…the other day, um…” Dean cleared his throat. “Cas told me he loved me.” He saw Sam’s eyebrows move upwards and sighed. “Yeah, that happened. The Sunday I brought Cas back from the hospital.” Sam dropped one eyebrow and Dean sighed again. “No, I didn’t say it back, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes flew open. “Why not?!” he blurted, before closing his eyes once more. “I mean, continue.”

Dean shook his head. “I know, I’m a horrible person, but the truth is… I think… I do love him.” Again, Sam raised a brow. “Okay, okay, I  _know_ I love him. I love him so much it…it scares me, Sam. Because everyone I love gets hurt, and-.”

“Dean, don’t,” Sam interrupted, turning to face his brother. “I know where this is going and it’s just not true.”

“But it is!” Dean whined, picking up his Pepsi for the sake of doing something with his hands. “I can’t say it. I can’t tell him.”

 

“You can, Dean.”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t what?”

Both brothers turned their heads to see Castiel slowly limping toward them, bag slung over his good shoulder.

Sam, because he was the greatest little brother on the entire planet, swiftly changed the subject. “Is that Dean’s shirt?” He looked pointedly between Cas and Dean.

Cas stopped walking when he reached the bench and looked down at himself. He was wearing khaki’s, _again,_ a red and blue plaid flannel, and a gray zip-up sweatshirt. Dean squinted for a second before smiling.

“Yeah, that’s definitely my shirt, angel,” he grinned and stood to wrap an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and kiss his cheek. “Plaid looks good on you.”

Cas blushed. “I was in a bit of a hurry this morning, and it was lying on top of my hamper, but when I put it on it smelt like you and I figured you wouldn’t mind so I…”

Sam put up a hand before standing. “Okay, yuck. You guys are being cute again.  _Anyway_ , I’ve got class. See ya, lovebirds”

“Pop quiz today,” Cas warned as Sam walked to the mathematics building doors, “and it’s a doozy.”

Sam looked back and threw his arms up in exasperation. “Aren’t they always?”

Dean had to laugh. He was so glad that his boyfriend and his brother got along so well. He wouldn’t have been able to choose between them if they didn’t. On a whim, he spun Cas around and kissed his lips. Cas made a sound of surprise before melting underneath Dean’s mouth, curling one hand around his neck. Dean smiled and pulled Cas closer by his hips. After hearing a few annoyed grunts as well as soft “aww’s” from fellow students, Cas peeled away from Dean and took his hand.

“We should probably get out of the way,” he chuckled, and Dean smirked.

“Why? PDA turns me on,” he winked, and Cas smacked his chest. “Ouch!”

“You watch that dirty mouth of yours,” Cas teased, tugging Dean along in the direction of their dorm. “I have something I want to speak to you about.”

“Uh oh,” Dean mocked, “am I in trouble?”

“No, silly,” Cas replied, laughing. “I just want your opinion on something. Sam suggested something to me and I’m considering it.”

“Sam?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Well this ought to be good.”

~

“Therapy?” Dean asked a third time, and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Dean. I think I’m going to give it a try. Sam said it really hel-.”

“Sam was 15!” Dean exclaimed, standing and walking over to the railing. They were sitting outside, on the balcony of their floor. The sun was just beginning to dip, the days warmth slipping away with it. Castiel stuck his hands in the pockets of his sweater before standing to join Dean.

“Sam said you would be opposed to this.”

Dean spun to face Castiel, opening his mouth to retort, but closing it after a beat. Something like disappointment flashed in Dean’s green eyes, but Castiel decided not to mention it.

“I’m not opposed,” Dean said finally, looking away from Castiel, “it’s just… I don’t see why you need to talk to some shrink. You’ve got me, you know?”

“Dean, that’s not -.”

“Sam didn’t have anyone,” Dean continued. “I was in college and Dad was… he was really busy with work and Sam was forced to deal. It really messed him up for a while. But you?” Dean faced Castiel again. “You have me, Cas. I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

“I know you are,” Cas soothed, taking one of Dean’s hands in his own. “But I think it would be good to get some extra help, that’s all. You’re already my soul mate, Dean, and nothing is going to change that. But you don’t have to be my therapist, too.”

“But…I wanna be your everything,” Dean mumbled, and Castiel squinted before a laugh escaped from his chest. Dean scowled at him, but didn’t pull his hand away.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” Castiel chided, knocking his shoulder into Dean’s. A tiny smile crept onto Dean’s lips.

“This Charlie guy doesn’t even know you,” he grumbled, walking them back over to one of the large chairs and pulling Castiel down onto his lap.

Castiel laughed, “Well that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Therapists start with a blank canvas of their patients. The more we talk, the more he’ll get to know me, and then he can figure out how to help me.”

“What if he just prescribes you a bunch of pills?” Dean spoke into crook of Castiel’s neck, placing one hand around his waist while the other rested on his thigh.

“Well, seeing as I’m already taking so many, I doubt it would be safe to prescribe me any more,” Castiel smiled and kissed Dean’s hair. “Besides, I can always switch therapists if I don’t like Dr. Bradbury. Or if you don’t like him.”

Dean’s head snapped up. “What?”

Castiel took a breath. “Dean, I want you to come with me.”

“Come with you? To…therapy?”

“Yes. I already set up the appointment for Monday afternoon. Dr. Bradbury has an office downtown, and instead of taking a bus, I figured we could…go together? I know you have to work but I can always beg Balthazar to give you a day off… Unless you don’t want to,” Castiel said quickly. He’d figured Dean wouldn’t want to go, anyway. He wasn’t the  _let’s talk about your feelings_ type. It was a lot to ask, he knew that.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Castiel. “You’ve really given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”

Castiel sighed. “I have. It’s important to me –.”

“Then it’s important to me, too.” Dean interrupted, and then he smiled. “Of course I’ll come with you, Cas.”

“You will?”

“Did you think I would actually say no?” Dean asked, genuine curiosity marring his face.

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up…” Cas muttered, playing with the collar of Dean’s pullover, “and I didn’t want you doing anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

“Baby, you have  _got_ to stop worrying about me so much,” Dean stated, tightening his grip around Castiel.

“I can’t help it,” he replied, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “I love you.”

Castiel felt Dean’s body go ridged underneath him for a split second, but when he looked up, Dean was grinning.

“I know you do,” he said softly, leaning up for a short, tender kiss that somehow managed to steal all the air from Castiel’s lungs. “So, Monday afternoon?”

“Yeah,” Castiel replied, wrapping his arm around Dean’s neck before dipping his head to kiss him again, longer this time. He could feel Dean smiling on his lips right before he stood up, lifting Castiel right along with him.

With a yelp, Castiel broke their kiss. “Dean, what are you doing?!”

“Calm down, sweetheart, I’m just carrying you back to the room. What, you afraid of heights?” Dean teased as he made his way back inside.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I am perfectly capable of walking, Dean. My legs are only slightly sore.”

“Well I’m carrying you anyway, so deal with it.”

They had just made it inside their dorm room when Castiel was about to respond, but then Dean dropped Castiel onto his bed, laughing and throwing himself down beside him.

Castiel grunted. “Are you always this gentle with your significant others?”

Dean laughed again. “Only you, baby.”

Castiel groaned and rolled over onto his side. “I need a nap. Get out of my bed, you Neanderthal.”

“Never,” Dean sighed, plastering himself to Castiel’s back and breathing against his neck. He wrapped an arm around his waist. “Wanna stay close to you.”

 _Softie,_ Castiel thought, but he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, lovelies, you guys have officially caught up. Now you will be on the same posting schedule as those who read my fic on Tumblr. I've recently started my final year of university, though, so I am often quite busy, and will be until winter break, but I'm gonna try and get chapter 22 to you guys by the end of the week, okay! I'll discuss the posting schedule in the endnotes there.
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me! I love you all and I DO read ALL of your awesome comments! <3


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Dr. Charlie Bradbury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! I'm not sure when I'll update next, so please enjoy! I'll get to all your comments ASAP. Love you, bbys! <3

Monday afternoon arrived faster than Dean had anticipated.

The weekend had flown by, since he had spent most of his time mother-henning Cas. Well, either that or making out with him,  _gently._ They hadn’t mentioned the looming therapy appointment once during the entire weekend, so Dean had completely forgotten, until he was at work on Monday, and Balthazar was fussing at him.

“Have you aligned all the new records, Dean?” B asked from the back room. The store only had a few customers in it, so Balthazar had suggested that they do some organizing.

“Not yet –.”

“Well what are you waiting for?” B poked his head out of the door to look at Dean, who put down the cassettes he was holding.

“What’s the rush, man? My friend Benny’s birthday is coming up in November, so I figured I’d look for something to get him. I’ll get to the records in a second, I promise.”

“Yes, well, that’s all good and dandy, but you’re only supposed to be here for another five minutes.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced down at his watch. “But it’s only 3:26?”

Balthazar released a sigh. “You forgot, didn’t you? Castiel’s appointment?”

 

“His appointment? He… oh, wait…” Dean smacked his palm against his forehead. “Shit! That’s in…” he glanced at his watch again, “in an hour and it takes like half an hour to get there –.”

“Don’t worry about the records. Today counts as overtime anyway.” He waved a hand at Dean, and then pointed at him. “But I expect to see you here tomorrow, Mr. Winchester, and  _on time._ ”

“Yes, sir, of course! Thanks so much, B,” Dean sighed in relief before jumping over the cashier desk to grab his brown leather jacket and his phone.

“Yes, yes, I’m the best, I know,” Balthazar smirked. “Now go on! Don’t be late!”

“I won’t be!” Dean yelled as he bolted out of the front door, looking both ways before jogging across the street to his Impala.

“Alright, baby,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go pick up my  _other_  baby.”

When Dean made it to the parking lot of his dormitory, he pulled his phone out of where he had stuffed it in his jacket pocket and dialed Cas’s number. It rang only once before Cas picked up.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, with an air of indifference that made Dean roll his eyes.

“Hey, angel, I missed you this morning,” Dean said, attempting to recreate the sleepy voice that drove Cas nuts.

Cas cleared his throat. “You know very well that I have class on Monday mornings, Dean.”

Dean chuckled. He knew why Cas was acting like this. Looking at his watch, he figured he was about ten minutes late. Castiel was a stickler for time management. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry I’m late, alright? I’m downstairs now, though!”

Dean could hear Cas shuffling things around before he heard a door closed on the other end of the phone. “And why are you late, exactly?” An elevator dinged.

“Because I…well, I kinda, um…”

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

Dean scoffed. “You Novak’s have a way of making four words sound like the worst thing in the world, ya know that?”

“It’s a trait we all share, yes.” Dean heard an elevator ding again and stepped out of the car, making his way over to the passenger side door.

“Let’s hope our kids don’t inherit that,” he mumbled to himself, and heard Castiel cough on the other end of the line.

“Kids?!” he exclaimed, and Dean heard a click, alerting him that the call had ended. He looked down at his phone, a bit confused, but then he heard uneven footsteps coming towards him.

“Kids? Are we seriously going to discuss kids?” Cas exclaimed, way more frantic than necessary, in Dean’s opinion.

“Baby, I was  _joking._ Christ, no, we aren’t gonna discuss kids. I’m not  _that_ insane.” Dean shook his head and took a few steps forward, closing the space between them. He placed a hand on Cas’s neck and leaned in for a short kiss.

“Oh,” Cas replied, biting his lip.

“You’re adorable,” Dean smiled, patting his cheek. “Let’s get to this appointment, now. I might have to run a few stop signs to get there on time.”

“Dean!” Cas scolded. “You will do nothing of the sort!”

“Okay, okay, sheesh!” Dean put his hands up in surrender. “C’mon, I’ll follow all the traffic laws. Promise.”

“Delinquent,” Cas muttered, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Dean frowned as he opened the door for him.

“You’re still limping,” he observed. It had been a month since Cas’s assault, and Dean was sure Cas’s leg should not still be acting up. There was only bruising there.

“One problem at a time, Dean,” Cas said, leaning on the top of the passenger door. “You worry too much.” He slipped inside of the vehicle, pulling the door closed himself.

Dean made a mental note to call Cas’s doctor at the hospital. He needed to get his cast changed anyway. Might as well make sure everything else is healing nicely.

~

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived at Dr. Bradbury’s downtown office in one piece, with a couple minutes to spare.

“See? I told you I’d get us here on time,” Dean beamed, climbing out of the car. He walked over and opened the door for Castiel. “You had nothing to worry about.”

Castiel stepped out, lightly shoving Dean as he did so. “Whatever,” he muttered, and Dean laughed before shutting the door and sliding Castiel’s good hand into his own.

“Alright, blue eyes. You ready?”

Castiel shrugged. He honestly didn’t know how he felt about letting some doctor into his head. He didn’t know if he would have to remember what happened to him when he was younger, or if he would have to talk about Lucifer. He was definitely nervous, but he knew he had to talk to a professional. He had quite a bit of baggage, and now, on top of that, Anna still had no clue where their father had gone.  _I still haven’t told Dean about that,_ Castiel remembered.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked from beside him. They had just entered the office building. It was quiet, well-lit, and resembled a hotel lobby. The floors were pale grey and carpeted, and a few people walked past, going up and down the visible stair cases behind the white front desk.

“Yeah, I’m uh, good. I’m good.”

“Can I help you?”

Dean and Castiel both turned to see a young girl, about 17 or 18 with curly dark hair looking up at them expectantly. Her name tag read  _Krissy._

“Hi, uh, we’re looking for a Charlie Bradbury?” Dean inquired.

“Oh, Dr. Bradbury’s office is upstairs and to the right – last room on the left, room 3A.” Krissy smiled. “Would you like me to take you up?”

Dean looked over at Castiel, who was attempting to calm his nerves. “Nah, I think we’ve got it. 3A?”

“3A,” repeated Krissy. She pointed to one of the stair cases behind her. “Just up those stairs.”

“Thanks, kid,” Dean replied, pulling Castiel along. He followed, all the while repeating to himself that he would be fine, and that he was safe. He had  _nothing_ to be nervous about. The doctor would simply do his job and he would be out of there in an hour.

When they reached the door of the office, Dean brought his fist up to knock, but Castiel stopped him with a squeeze of his hand. Dean’s hand fell back immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Dean whispered. A few people in professional-style clothing walked by, carrying files and other office materials. Castiel looked around, and then back to Dean, whose bright green eyes were filled with concern.

“I’m just…” Castiel began with a swallow.

“You’re nervous,” Dean concluded, deflating a little. “Angel, we don’t have to do this today if –.”

“No!” Castiel rejected, turning a few heads with his volume. He sighed and pulled Dean down onto a couple of the chairs that were conveniently spread across the walls between office doors.

“No,” he repeated, “I have to do this.” When Dean made a face, he amended, “I  _want_ to do this, okay? I know I need it, but I feel like it might be good for me, too. I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings very much –.”

“Hey, I resent that!”

“I’m not judging you, babe,” Castiel teased, “but I feel like… if I don’t talk to anyone, I’ll never be…okay. Ya know? A lot of things happened to me when I was in high school and I could never talk about it. I wanted to keep Gabe and Anna safe.”

“I understand,” Dean said, nodding.

“But now,” Castiel continued, “now they  _are_ safe, finally safe from my uncle, and my long lost brother decides he wants me dead and everything is screwed up all over again. Not only that, but my father is nowhere to be found and I don’t –.”

“Whoa whoa, hold on,” Dean interrupted, “your father is  _missing?_ ”

“I…”  _Fuck,_ Castiel thought. He hadn’t meant to bring that up just yet. Dean’s eyebrow were raised as he waited for an answer, but just then, the door to room 3A swung open.

_Saved by the bell._

A perky redhead stepped into the hall. She wore a zebra print skirt, and polka-dotted button up top, and plain black heels. In her hand was a blue pen with a smurf bouncing from the top of it.

“Hi,” she began, looking between both Castiel and Dean. “4:30?”

“Yes,” they answered simultaneously, both a bit in awe of the woman’s eclectic appearance.

She smiled at them curiously. “And which one of you is Novak?”

“That would be me,” Castiel replied, standing up. Dean stood as well.

“Is Dr. Bradbury going to be in soon?” Dean asked.

The woman laughed, and Castiel and Dean gave each other equally confused looks. The women then held out her hand.

“Dr. Charlie Bradbury, at your service.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas's therapist appointment goes... well, it goes.

“ _You’re_ a doctor?” Dean asked his eyes wide. He felt a sharp slap on his arm and turned to find Castiel glaring at him. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just…I didn’t…”

“You were expecting someone more…masculine?” Dr. Bradbury finished, completely unoffended.

Dean sighed. “Well, yeah. I mean, not that women don’t make spectacular doctors,” Dean corrected, and Cas hit him again. “What?”

“Just stop talking,” Cas rolled his eyes at Dean, who crossed his arms, but kept his mouth shut.

“Dr. Bradbury,” Castiel took her hand and shook it, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You, too! Lovely name, by the way. Sounds so…dreamy.” She smiled at them both before turning to skip – _skip –_ into her office. “Well, come on in to my kingdom! I can’t read minds in the hallway; too many distractions.”

Dean and Cas followed Charlie into the room, raising their eyebrows at one another and shrugging. Inside sat large yellow chair, which Dean assumed was for the doctor. There was an enormous bay window on the far wall, letting in limited light due to the pale blue drapes that hung in front of it. To the left, across from the yellow chair, were two couches, coffee brown in color.

“Do you really, um, read minds?” Dean heard Cas ask hesitantly. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Oh no no, I was just kidding with you, silly!” Dr. Bradbury responded, “I’m a psychiatrist, _not_ a psychic. Contrary to popular belief, the two are nothing alike. Anyway, feel free to sit down and we’ll get started.”

Cas took a seat on one of the couches and Dean plopped down next to him. When Dr. Bradbury walked over to her desk and pulled out a chart, Cas took hold of Dean’s hand. His palms were sweaty.

“Hey,” Dean whispered, “it’s gonna be fine, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

Castiel nodded. “I’m good, I am.”

“Now, Dean, are you going to be with us for every face-to-face session?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Dean asked, raising a brow.

“Sometimes, a patient’s partner starts off coming with them to therapy, but if the couple breaks up, they eventually stop coming. That’s never good for the patient, so I’m just trying to get a gist of what I’m working with here.”

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about, doc. Cas here happens to be my soul mate,” Dean admitted proudly.

“ _Deeeean,”_ Cas whined, blushing.

“What? It would have come up sooner or later, angel. Now it’s out of the way.” Dean said sweetly.

A high-pitched squeal sounded then, and both Cas and Dean spun their heads back to Dr. Bradbury. Both of her hands were clutching the left side of her chest.

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry, you guys are just adorable. I’m so sorry; I’ll be more professional, wow, shame on me.” She cleared her throat and Dean had to laugh. _I think I’m gonna like this doctor,_ he thought.

“Okay, first and foremost,” Dr. Bradbury continued, “please, _please_ feel free to call me Charlie. My collogues call me Dr. Bradbury and it kind of makes me cringe. ‘Doc’ is fine, as well,” she nodded to Dean. “Alright, my method is simple – If I ask you a question, you can ask me a question. Whenever you want. Tit for tat. If you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine, too. I’m here to hear what’s wrong and work with you to manage it, alright? I’m not a fixer; people aren’t broken, they just need a little help – that’s what I intend to do. Sound good?”

“Very,” Castiel replied. His grip on Dean’s hand loosened slightly, which was a good sign.

The first ten minutes were spent with Cas answering Charlie’s routine questions. When she asked about his sex life, Cas admitted to having previous experience with flings (of which Dean may or may not have felt a tad bit jealous of), but declared that he had decided to wait now. Charlie then shot a glance at Dean, who raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m totally okay with that!” he promised.

“You better be,” Cas muttered, knocking their shoulders together.                 

Halfway through the session, though, Dean could tell that Castiel was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable.

“So, did anything specific happen that lead you to come to therapy?”

“I, uh… well Dean’s brother, um, recommended it – well, you – but…um…”

“The panic attack,” Dean remembered suddenly. That was the first time he realized something was definitely wrong with his boyfriend. “In the car, after I drove you home from the hospital.”

“The hospital?” Charlie queried, “Did something happen?”

Castiel twitched where he sat on the couch. Dean squeezed his hand in response. He was nervous, Dean could tell.

“Hey,” he whispered, “do you want me to…?”

“No, no,” Cas replied, “I can talk about it, I got it.” He inhaled deeply, and then blew the air out slowly through his mouth. He looked up at Charlie, but Dean kept his eyes on Cas.

“I was uh… jumped,” he said awkwardly. Dean caught Charlie’s eyes widening, but she said nothing. Cas licked his lips and continued.

 “My brother, Lucifer, was kicked out when he was eighteen. I was only twelve at the time, but I remember it. He had done something… something that could put our entire family in jeopardy, I guess. My father’s brother, Zachariah, he advised it. Next thing I knew, no one could mention Lucifer’s name anymore.” Castiel took another deep breath. “Now, almost ten years later, Lucifer decides he wants revenge and takes it out on me.” Castiel shrugs, “I took his place, as the oldest, as the responsible one. It’s like he thinks I wanted that spot – well, it sucked. It sucked being the responsible one.”

Castiel took his hand out of Dean’s to cradle his left arm, wrapped in the cast. “This was because of him. Him and his…goons,” Cas spat. “I have metal rods on my ribs where they were fractured. I’ve got bruises everywhere, and I’m sore all the time, because of him. And for what? To prove a point?” Cas’s voice began to increase in volume, and Dean became hesitant, trying to decide whether or not he should reach for him.

“I don’t understand why my own _brother_ would do this to me! How can he hate me for something I had no say in, whatsoever?” Cas was staring at Charlie, as if she actually had an answer for him. She responded, though, very gently.

“Castiel,” she began, “there’s no way of knowing why or how someone does something so horrible. We have to ask them directly, and sometimes, they don’t even really know.”

“Oh, he knows,” Cas was fuming, and Dean kept his distance. He had never seen Cas so angry before. Honestly, it was a little hot. _Wow, seriously, Dean?_ He scolded himself internally. _Get a hold of yourself!_

“You seem sure about that,” Charlie replied.

“I am! He was always up to no good, and he always had a reason for it. He knows exactly why he did this to me.”

“Would you confront him about it?”

Castiel opened his mouth, but closed it a second later. He blinked a couple times, thinking hard. “I don’t know,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “I don’t think… I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“That’s alright,” Charlie answered, scribbling something down on the paper in front of her. “Do we know where Lucifer is?”

“He’s on the run, like the coward he is,” Dean spoke up, “but if he even comes close, the local police know exactly who he is, and will detain him immediately.”

“That’s a good thing,” Charlie nodded, glancing back down at her paper. “What about these goons of his?”

There was silence for a beat. Cas looked at Dean with questioning eyes.

“The pharmacy,” Cas said plainly.  

“The pharmacy?” Charlie asked.

Dean sighed and let his head fall into his hands. _Alistair,_ he remembered. He wanted to talk about him, about his connection to the The Garrison, about what he’d said. _You know what I’m good at? Torturing people._ Dean wanted to rat him out to the police, but he also remembered Al’s threat _. You try and tell the police about this? I’ll make sure there’s a price on your head._ Dean was at a loss. His thirst for revenge was battling his need to keep Cas safe, and it made his head hurt.

“Dean?” Castiel placed a hand on his shoulder, “Dean, are you alright?”

“Do you want to talk about what happened at this pharmacy, Dean?” Charlie’s voice was kind. She wasn’t pushing, and Dean appreciated that.

“I can’t talk about it,” he said, sitting back up. “Not now.”

“That’s totally fine,” Charlie nodded, “times just about up anyway. I’ve penned you in for next week, same time. Sound good?”

“Yes, thank you,” Cas replied, standing up to shake her hand. Dean stood as well and did the same.

“Yeah, thanks, doc.” He smiled weakly, and she returned it.

“Hey, just doing my job. See you boys soon!”

Castiel walked out first, Dean a few steps behind. He stopped at the door when he felt a small hand on his arm. He turned to find the doctor looking up at him.

“Hey, make sure you take care of him, alright?”

“Of course,” Dean promised, “That’s _my_ job.”

Charlie smiled. “I just… I have a feeling that whatever Castiel is going through… it runs deep. Now that we’ve opened up a backdoor to his past, he might feel less stable. So keep an eye out.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Dean said confidently.

“Dean?” Cas called from the hallway, “You coming?”

“Gotta run,’ Dean winked, “angel’s calling.”

“You guys are too much,” Charlie laughed, “Bye now!”

Dean jogged down the hall to where Cas stood waiting near the staircase.

“What was that about?” Cas asked.

“Oh, you know,” Dean rolled his eyes, playing it off as if what the doctor had said didn’t worry him, “she was just telling me to take good care of you, is all.”

“As if you don’t do that already,” Cas chuckled.

“That’s what I said!”

“Well, there’s always room for improvement,” Cas said as they walked down the stairs.

“What?” Dean slapped a hand on his chest in mock disbelief, “I thought I was the best boyfriend ever!”

“Who told you _that_ nonsense?” Castiel teased, staying two steps ahead of Dean, who turned when he heard laughing from the direction of the reception desk.

Krissy hand her hands over her mouth, “I’m sorry,” she giggled, “but you guys are so funny!”

Dean smiled. “We try,” he bowed, and Krissy clapped her hands as if he had just completed an entertaining dance routine.

“Did you just _curtsey?_ ” Cas asked from the front doors.

Dean stood up straight, “N-no!” he stammered, walking quickly past Cas and out of the doors. He could still hear Krissy giggling when Cas walked outside behind him.

“You definitely curtseyed.” Cas said again when they got to the Impala.

“I did not!” Dean replied defiantly, although he might have. _Maybe._ He held the passenger side door open for Cas. “Just get in the car,” he whined.

“Alright, princess,” Cas stuck his tongue out before dipping to get into the passenger seat.

Dean closed the door and rolled his eyes. He got into the driver’s seat and looked over at his boyfriend, who was still laughing, and biting his lip to keep from doing so.

“You’re a jerk, ya know that?” Dean said, shaking his head.

“I know,” Cas replied proudly, “but you’re stuck with me.”

Dean pulled the car into traffic and headed back to their dormitory. “I could always get my tattoo removed,” he teased.

“Do you know how expensive that is? Not to mention dangerous.”

“Well when your soul mate is a jerk, it’s probably worth it.”

“Probably,” Cas mocked, sliding a hand to the inside of Dean’s thigh.

“Whoa, there,” Dean warned playfully, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, nothing,” Cas sighed, his hand creeping slowly up Dean’s thigh, fingers practically _massaging_ the muscle. “You’ve got nice legs,” Cas said, his voice an octave lower than it had been seconds before. Dean suddenly realized what was happening.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said firmly, removing Castiel’s hand from his leg. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Trying to turn you on?”

Dean sighed. “You’re using foreplay to avoid talking about what happened in therapy.”

Dean could see Cas’s face scrunch up in his peripheral vision, “No, I’m –.”

“You are, Cas, I can feel… I just know, okay? And we’re not doing that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE, LOVELIES! Hope you enjoyed this feelsy chapter! <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT, college is a struggle, BUT HERE IT IS! I hope you enjoy it! (p.s. there's some fluff at the end so THERE) <3 Thanks again for reading! Love you all!

Castiel would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. He didn’t think he was trying to avoid speaking about therapy; however, he truly did not want to talk about that. He wanted to forget, as usual, and so he had gone with the first thing that came to mind: sex.

“I thought you wanted to wait,” Dean said from the driver’s seat, after a minute of silence.

“I do, I was just –.” _Just what?_ Castiel wasn’t even sure of what he’d planned to do. He _did_ want to wait. He wanted his and Dean’s first time to be something special. What if Dean had let him keep going? Would he have given him a handjob? Or sucked him off while he drove? _That doesn’t count as sex, does it?_

“Cas!” Dean barked. He must have been calling his name for some time now. “Where’d you go, man, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cas muttered, falling back against the leather of his seat and placing a hand on his side. It was beginning to hurt. “I need to take my meds.”

Dean and Castiel didn’t say a word to each other for the rest of the ride.

When they got back to their dorm, Dean reminded Cas that he was due back at the hospital soon so that Dr. Henricksen could check his stitches and x-ray his hand. Castiel simply nodded and sat down at his desk. He dug through a drawer for his medication, poured out the right doses and swallowed them dry before reaching for the plastic bottle next to his laptop and taking a few gulps of water.

Dean seemed to be busy with homework, so Castiel assumed they wouldn’t be discussing the conversation they had in the car earlier. He stood, picked up a text book, and flopped down into his bed with a sigh. _Might as well get some homework done._

“The hell!?” Dean exclaimed suddenly after twenty minutes of silence.

“What is it?” Castiel asked.

“Crowley moved the midterm date.”

“Okay…so, we have more time to study?”

Dean spun in his chair to face Castiel. “He moved the date _up._ As in, our biology midterm is this Thursday.”

“What?!” Castiel sat up and walked to Dean’s desk, where Dean was pointing at the screen of his laptop. There it was, in black and white: _Hello, boys. And girls. Just here to inform you of a schedule change – the midterm has been moved to Thursday, October 11 th. Yes, that is this week. I suggest you begin studying yesterday. Good luck! _

“I knew I disliked him for a reason. That man is ludicrous,” Castiel stated, walking back to his bed. “I’m still trying to catch up!”

“This isn’t fair. You think you could get an extension? I mean, you’ve got a pretty legitimate excuse.”

“Dean, the man probably wouldn’t give a damn if I was _still_ in a coma.” Castiel went back to his desk and opened his laptop. “Dammit, I’ve yet to do the practice labs online. I am going to fail this midterm. There is no way around it.”

“Oh, come on, Cas, don’t be like that. You’re smart, you’ll be fine!”

“Biology isn’t easy, Dean.”

“You’re telling me! I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m still passing is because you’re my lab partner.”

Castiel looked at Dean, searching his face to find some inkling of humor, but Dean was being completely serious.

“Dean,” he started, “you’re smart. You know that, don’t you?”

Dean only shrugged from where he sat at his desk. “I’m a grunt. I’m good with my hands, with parts and machines, not all of this book stuff. I’m only in the damn class because it’s a transfer requirement.”

“Dean, that’s –.” Castiel began, but he was cut off when Dean’s phone rang. Dean patted his pockets and pulled out the phone, tapping the screen to answer it.

“Hello?”

Castiel watched Dean’s face form an unreadable expression. His answers were short, his tone, serious. Castiel grew worrisome.

“Thank you,” Dean said finally, “I’ll let Cas know.” He hung up and stared at his phone.

“Dean?” Castiel asked cautiously, “What was that about? Let me know what?”

Dean looked up then, and after a beat, he got up and walked to Castiel, who stood as well.

“Dean what is it?” He took Dean’s hands in his own, squeezed, and waited.

It took another minute for Dean to respond. “It’s Lucifer.”

Castiel’s pulsed jumped at the mention of his brother. “Was that the Sherriff’s Office? Did they –?”

“They found him,” Dean stated, moving his hands to rest on Castiel’s hips, his mouth curving into a smile. “Cas, they’ve got him.”

“H-he’s…” Castiel stuttered, wringing his hands, “he’s here? A-already? That’s good, right? This…this is good?”

“Yes!” Dean’s smile was prominent now and he pulled Cas into a hug. “It’s a good thing, angel.”

Castiel doubted Dean’s sudden happiness. He moved his hands to Dean’s shoulders and shoved away lightly, until he was looking Dean in the face. “Then why did you look so…so somber, on the phone?”

Dean sighed, “It’s just…they uh…” Dean looked away, “They want you to go in and see him.”

Castiel took a step back. He was glad that Lucifer was in custody, but he did _not_ sign up for some fucked up family reunion. “No.”

“Cas –.”

“Why? What do they want me to do, confirm that it’s him? They still have my phone, don’t they? To match his voice?”

“Yeah, you have to go get your phone back, too –.”

“Dean!”

“He asked for you, okay?” Dean admitted, saying the words quickly, as if Castiel wouldn’t hear them anyway. “They said…he won’t talk to anyone but you.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He felt lightheaded, and numb. _9 years._ It had been nine years since he last saw his older brother. Excluding the attack, the last time they saw each other, Lucifer was being kicked out of their house.

_Why does he want to see me?_

“I don’t know, man, but they need him to talk,” Dean answered, and Castiel guessed that he’d been thinking aloud. Dean reached out to Castiel, but he flinched, and Dean immediately took a step back.

_Not again._

“I can come with you,” Dean suggested, his voice soft, “You don’t have to go alone. I won’t make you go alone.”

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t know what to say. Of course, he wanted Dean to go with him, but Dean had nothing to do with this. He had only been strung along into Lucifer’s sick game because they just so happened to be soul mates. None of this was fair to Dean.

“Cas?” Dean asked, startling him out of his thoughts. Castiel hadn’t realized that he was walking backwards until his back hit his closet doors. He winced, the impact sending a spark of pain along his fading bruises. He heard Dean suck his teeth.

“You okay, baby?” he asked gently, _so damn gently,_ and Castiel was suddenly filled with anger _._ Not with Dean, but with himself, for being so helpless, for being a victim to his own _brother._ He was also angry at Lucifer, for obvious reasons. Maybe seeing him again would be cathartic. Maybe, if he could get a good swing in, right in Lucifer’s face –.

“I’ll do it,” Cas answered, finally. “I’ll do what he wants. I’ll go see him.”

“Whoa, are you sure?” Dean took a tentative step forward, “Don’t you wanna wait till you’re feeling better?”

“And when is that gonna be? In a month? In six? He’s not talking, and they need him to talk. All goes well, and I never have to hear about him, ever again. I want to be done with this, Dean! I’m so – I’m tired of being afraid!”

Dean was silent. He looked at Castiel with something akin to understanding, and Castiel couldn’t bear to stare back, so he looked at his feet. Was that it? Was he simply afraid? _Of course you are,_ he thought to himself, wringing his hands again. _Uncle Zach made sure of that._

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, and Castiel’s head snapped up to meet green eyes. “I’m sorry that all of this is happening to you, but I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Dean took another step forward, and Castiel didn’t budge. “I’m going to be here the whole time. You don’t have to be afraid with me, ever.”

Castiel released a shaky breath and practically flew forward to wrap Dean in a hug, which Dean readily returned. He wasn’t even aware that he had doubted Dean’s willingness to stay with him through all of this, but now that Dean had made it clear that he wouldn’t be leaving, Castiel felt tremendous relief. They stood wrapped together for a few minutes, Castiel’s arms around Dean’s shoulders, and Dean’s wrapped around Castiel’s waist, one hand rubbing his back.

“Let’s lay down, hmm?” Dean suggested, moving them towards Castiel’s bed.

“Can we, um, use your bed?” Castiel asked as he used the heel of one hand to wipe his eyes. “It’s…I like it better.”

Dean smiled. “Of course, angel, come on.” He threw his clothes and books to the floor to make room for both of them in his small bed. He pulled back the blankets and urged Castiel to get in first. Dean followed suit, entwining their bodies once more.

After a few minutes, Castiel asked, “When do I have to go in?”

“Tomorrow, I guess,” Dean mumbled, “Don’t worry about it now, babe, you deserve a rest. It’s been a long day.”

Dean was right. Castiel sighed and tried to relax, scooting closer to Dean. He opened his eyes to see that they were face to face, so close that Castiel could count the freckles that peppered Dean’s nose and cheeks. The sight filled him with a warm feeling that spread all throughout his chest.

“I love you,” Castiel whispered, planting a kiss on Dean’s nose before drifting off to sleep. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, I hope you guys are still with me. <3 Please enjoy the chapter! Crowley makes an appearance again! C:

The next morning, Dean awoke before Cas. It was early, only 7AM according to his watch. _Too early,_ Dean thought. He was a bit hungry though, so he figured he could grab some food before the morning rush. Dean crawled out of bed and slowly stood up to stretch, careful not to wake Castiel. They had fallen asleep early the night before, but Dean figured that Castiel could use the rest; they had to be at the sheriff department before 12:30 that afternoon, right after their biology lecture.

Dean wasn’t too excited about that.

He showered, dressed, and was looking through his closet for a hoodie when his phone rang.

“Shit,” Dean whispered, grabbing it off of his dresser and silencing it. He winced as Cas mumbled and rolled over, but thankfully, didn’t wake. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out into the hall, leaving door ajar. He put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dean,” it was Sam on the other end, and he sounded weird.

“Sammy, what’s up? Everything alright?” Dean wasn’t sure he could handle another crisis at the moment.

“Yeah, I just uh…I got my…um…my tattoo.”

Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. _Is he seriously freaking out about this?_ “Nice! Congrats Sammy, what is it? Does Jess have hers? You don’t _have_ to tell me, but -.”

“It’s a ring of fire or something, on my chest,” Sam interrupted, “but…but Jess’s tattoo is different.” Now Dean understood why he sounded so grim. _Damn._

“Oh…Sam, I’m sorry. But, you never know! You could stay together anyway, maybe?”

Sam let out a bitter laugh, “Yeah, and be judged and ridiculed for the rest of our lives? I think not, Dean.”

“Sam, come on –.”

“And what would Dad say? He’d be furious!”

That much was true. Although Dean thought it was much simpler just sticking with your soul mate, he didn’t agree that people who chose not to do so should be treated any differently. That was just stupid. Unfortunately, their father had a different opinion.

“Don’t worry about Dad right now, Sam. Did you talk to Jess about it?”

“Yeah, and she wants to break it off,” Sam deadpanned.

Dean sighed, “Dude, that sucks. I’m really sorry, Sam.”

Sam made a noncommittal sound, “It’s okay, nothing much I can do besides wait for my soul mate to show up. Maybe it’s my roommate?”

Dean laughed, “Hey, I got lucky. But do you wanna meet up? I’ve got a few hours before my biology class…I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam laughed, and Dean smiled at the sound, “It’s not even 9AM!”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, ain’t it?” Dean replied.

“Oh, ha ha. You know I don’t drink. Thanks for trying to cheer me up, though.”

“Tryin’? I totally succeeded, Sam. Don’t lie.”

“Whatever, jerk,” Sam said.

“Love you too, bitch,” Dean teased, “Call me if you need me, alright?”

“’Course, talk to you later.” Sam hung up.

Dean was walking back into his room when he realized that he hadn’t told Sam about Lucifer. He decided that it was better that way; Sam probably had enough on his mind, and he could always just tell him later.

Cas was still asleep in his bed, unconsciously scratching at the skin just above the cast on his left arm. Dean’s pulse sped up in anger, remembering that it was Lucifer that had done this to his boyfriend; Lucifer, who was in custody just down the road, who Cas would have to speak to today. Personally, Dean would rather rip him a new one.

 _And what about Alistair?_ Dean thought, finding one of Cas’s hoodies on the floor and sliding it over his head. The arms were a bit too short for Dean’s liking, but being wrapped in Cas’s scent made up for that. He hugged himself for a moment, watching Cas sleep. He never told Cas about Alistair – well, not the whole story. But if he told Cas, Cas would want to tell the police, and if they told the police, Alistair might follow through on his threat.

But then again, Dean had never taken well to threats.

Dean sighed and ran his hands through his hair, taking quiet steps back toward his bed. The only reason he hadn’t gone straight to the police after the drug store incident was because he didn’t want Cas to be in any more danger. If it was just him, he would have called them right then and demanded to be placed in some sort of witness protection program.

But he had to take care of Cas.

Suddenly devoid of all hunger, Dean crawled back into bed, setting an alarm on his phone so that he and Cas wouldn’t sleep though class. He slipped under the covers and Cas adjusted his position, grunting a little in the process. Dean smiled, wrapping his arm around Castiel’s waist and rubbing his back to settle him.

When Cas’s breathing evened out again, Dean relaxed into the mattress, enjoying the weight of Cas’s body against his. He buried his face in Castiel’s dark hair, inhaling the scent – lavender mint, or something. He sighed, and tried not to think about their appointment later. Dean could feel a change coming; a big, ugly change, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for things to shift just yet. He held on a bit tighter to Cas and took a deep breath.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he muttered, to himself, mostly. He kissed Cas’s forehead lightly and closed his eyes. “I love you.”   

~

Biology lecture that morning was absolutely ludicrous, in Castiel’s opinion.

He and Dean sat at their lab table, notebooks out and pen’s ready, like the rest of the class. Everyone was complaining about the exam on Thursday, until the moment Professor Crowley walked in, of course. Castiel caught Dean rolling his eyes at the class’s sudden silence, and nudged him with his cast.

“Good morning class,” Crowley began, placing his briefcase on the front desk. “I’m sure you all received the announcement about Thursday’s exam. I hope you’ve been studying; it _does_ count as your midterm, after all, which is 35 percent of your final grade.”

“What?” Jo exclaimed from the front of the room, at the same time as Dean did from beside Castiel. A groan made its way across the room, and Professor Crowley pretended to be shocked. It was Castiel who rolled his eyes then.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that not clear? We are in the middle of the semester, are we not?”

“Come on, man!” a student, Tracy, shouted from the right. “You can’t do that to us!”

“I can’t?” Crowley replied, “That’s funny, because I think I already did. You don’t have to take the exam, Ms. Bell, but I suggest that you do.”

Castiel covered his face with a hand, “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled.

“What was that, Mr. Novak?” Professor Crowley asked, and Castiel’s head shot up. He had never been called out in class before. _How did he even hear me?_

“Uh, I said – uh,” Castiel stuttered, looking over at Dean, whose eyebrows were raised high, as if spurring him on. “I said, this…this is ridiculous,” Castiel said, more affirmatively, “it’s unfair, and frankly, a bit insulting.” He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. He could see Dean beaming at him in his peripheral vision. _Smug bastard._ “It’s as if you are just messing with us for your own pleasure. You’re supposed to be teaching us, Professor, not torturing us.”

After a long, agonizing minute of silence, Tracy spoke up again. “What he said,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, what he said,” Jo agreed.

“Well, well,” Professor Crowley began, folding his hands, “do you have more important things to be doing?”

Before Castiel could say a word, Dean replied, “Actually, yeah, we do.” He stood from his chair and stuffed his notebook back into his bag.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Castiel whispered, afraid of where the outburst was headed.

“Telling the truth,” Dean whispered back, and Castiel’s eyes went wide.

“Dean –?”

“You do,” Crowley answered.

“Yeah,” Dean said again, “the police found the asshole that almost killed my boyfriend, and we’ve got to like, confirm it’s him, or something. Today.”

Castiel heard several gasps, including his own. Crowley only raised a brow, and said nothing. Dean took that as an opportunity.

“We’ll see you on Thursday, Crowley,” Dean finished, and the way Crowley was looking at them sent a chill down Castiel’s spine. He was frozen in his spot until Dean grabbed his things and took Castiel’s hand in his own, pulling him along.

“Good luck,” Jo said as they passed her, “I’m glad they found the bastard. Life in prison would be generous for him.”

“Thank you, Jo,” Castiel nodded to her before he was whisked out of the room, Dean at his side. They were almost to the front doors of the building when Castiel came to a halt, stopping Dean in the process.

“What the actual _fuck_ was that about?” Castiel wanted to yell, but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself.

Dean was smirking when he faced him. “I was just following your lead, baby,” he shrugged, “Crowley was being a dick, so I figured, why not tell him off?”

“I don’t know what got into me,” Castiel said, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. “Do you think it’s because I’m scared of seeing my brother? Maybe I was deflecting my anger –.”

“Cas!” Dean stopped him with a finger to his lips. “You’re thinking too much.”

“Did you notice how he didn’t even react when you mentioned Lucifer? I’m not sure it was a good idea to do that, either. Aren’t there rules against –?”

“You’re doing it again,” Dean interrupted. “But you have a point, though, about Crowley. Why, do you think…?” Dean shook his head, “You don’t think he’s _involved_ in this, do you?”

“What?” Castiel hadn’t thought of that. _What if?_ “I mean, no, but…I mean is it possible? Oh, god, what if I was set up? This whole time! Oh my god, what…what if…” Castiel felt his body start to shake, and he wrapped his arms around himself.

“Oh, no,” Dean whispered, pulling Cas against his chest. “Don’t let Crowley get into your head, okay? He’s just an asshole professor, that’s all.”

“You’re probably right,” Castiel replied a few moments later, his body calm again. He stepped out of Dean’s grasp and took a deep breath. This was _not_ the time for a panic attack. He was confronting his brother soon. They may not have spoken in nine years, but Castiel was certain that Lucifer would still be able to read him like a book, like he always had when they were younger.

He couldn’t let him do that this time.

“Let’s go to the sheriff’s department,” Castiel decided, looking up at Dean.

“Now? You sure? We still have some time, Cas.”

“I know,” he replied, standing up straighter, “but I want to go now. I’m ready.” 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Castiel was still willing his body to move when Lucifer, eyelids shut, decided to speak._
> 
> _“Brother,” was all he said, and the sound of his voice carried like broken glass through Castiel’s ears._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NEXT CHAPTER IS FINALLY HERE. Bless you all for your patience! It's extra long to make up for the fact that I haven't posted in a month. I'm officially on winter break so I'll try to post more often while I can. I love you all! Enjoy! <3

“You two are early,” Sheriff Mills greeted as Castiel and Dean walked into the office building. Police officers rushed around them, carrying coffee, bagels, and classified documents.  

“Yes, well, _someone_ decided to pull us out of class early,” Castiel began, cocking his head in Dean’s direction.

“It’s not like you were protesting,” Dean teased back, tickling Castiel’s wrist with his fingers before grabbing his hand. “Might as well get this whole mess over with, no?”

“Please,” Castiel agreed, and then looked toward the Sheriff. “I’m ready to see him – to see Lucifer.”

Mills nodded, “If you’re sure. Right this way, boys.” The sheriff led them between desks of the bullpen and down a long corridor, scanning her ID a few times to get them through doors and down a staircase. Castiel began to get nervous, but suppressed the feeling; he didn’t need Dean fussing over him right now.

The interrogation rooms were located on the bottom floor of the building. When they arrived, Sheriff Mills introduced them to a detective who was already there. “This is Detective Turner. He’s been chasing down The Garrison for years –.”

“ _Years!”_ the Detective emphasized, holding out a hand, “Now we’ve got one of the top dogs in a room. It’s too good to be true. Call me Rufus.”

Castiel removed his hand from Dean’s to shake the detective’s hand. He thought this Rufus character was a bit odd, but he seemed confident enough, if his firm shake was anything to go by. Dean shook his hand as well, a tight smile plastered on his face. _Is he nervous too?_ He placed his hand back in Dean’s and they both relaxed slightly.

“My brother is of high importance to you?” Castiel asked, squinting in confusion. “Wait…The Garrison…you mean _thee_ Garrison? That crazy huge drug cartel?”

“The one and only,” Detective Turner replied, “They operate worldwide and all of their leaders have covers – not even the dealers really know who’s orders they’re taking.”

Castiel felt Dean’s hand twitch suddenly, and turned to look at him. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

Dean coughed, “Nothing nothing, I just…” Dean took a deep breath, “I knew, about The Garrison. I knew Lucifer was working for them.”

“What?!” Castiel’s eyes widened, “How? Since when? Who did you –?”

“The pharmacy,” Dean answered, and Castiel understood.

“You…never told me the whole story.” With everything going on, Castiel had forgotten all about Al, or whatever his name was, and the pharmacy incident that Dean had promised to explain in detail.

“The pharmacy?” Sheriff Mills queried, raising a brow at Castiel and then Dean, “Is there something we should know, Winchester?”

Castiel was still looking at Dean and could see him clam up almost immediately, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I…I don’t want to lie, or withhold information but I can’t,” Dean sighed, “I can’t mention any names; I was threatened.”

“What?!” Castiel exclaimed, removing his hand from Dean’s.

Dean made a placating gesture with his hands, “I was gonna tell you, Cas, I swear! But we got caught up with your therapy and then this whole thing, and it just…it wasn’t the right time.”

“And you didn’t contact the police…” Rufus began, crossing his arms, “because you were threatened. What exactly did this nameless person say to you?”

“He told me there’d be a price on my head if I said anything,” Dean stated. “He’s a part of The Garrison, too – works for Lucifer.”

“He was one of the three guys who beat the shit out of me,” Castiel grunted. He felt his anger start to grow again; a firm heat in his gut, rising steadily. He needed to see Lucifer. He needed to get this over with. “Where’s my brother?”

~

Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t at little anxious. They had moved into one of the interrogation rooms; Dean stood next to Cas in front of the one-ray mirror, watching Lucifer sit in the room on the other side of the glass, chained to a metal table. He looked _relaxed._ Dean would be less worrisome if the guy was angry and restless, but he looked serene, as if he was sitting on a yacht in the middle of the ocean. His eyes were closed, palms out, like he was meditating. Dean never would have guess that his first look at Lucifer would be so damn _calm._ It struck a nerve, and he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Cas, of course, noticed. “Are you nervous?” he asked quietly. Sheriff Mills and Detective Turner had informed them that the glass was soundproof, but they still kept the voices hushed.

“Hell yeah, I’m nervous,” Dean said, “Aren’t you? Look at him! He’s so fucking calm I wanna throw something.” Dean chewed on a finger nail to keep his composure in check. He didn’t want to freak Cas out, but he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening – they were essentially standing directly across from Cas’s brother, who had almost killed him. 

“I’m…angry,” Cas admitted, “and I just want to put this behind me so I don’t have to think about it anymore. I want him gone. I want him dead –.”

“Whoa, there,” Sheriff Mills piped in from behind them, “even dicks get a fair trial.”

“There’s gonna be a _trial?_ Oh, great,” Dean mumbled, covering his face with his hands. He wanted this to be over just as much as Cas did, but apparently, fate had other plans.

“So he has a lawyer,” Cas spat, rolling his eyes, “of _course_ he has a lawyer. Lucifer was always smart when it came to saving his own ass.” His tone was bitter. “When can I go in?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Rufus replied, “We’re all set up here. Everything is going to be recorded.” He turned from the monitors on the wall beside them and looked at Cas. “Look, I know this is probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, but don’t let him get in your head –.”

“I think I know how to handle my own brother,” Cas interrupted. Dean could almost feel him seething.

“Yes, but it’s been nine years, I hear. And apparently, he almost killed you. My point is, we need him to admit it – we need him to admit that he had the intent to kill. The names of his accomplices would be nice, too. He asked for you, maybe he wants to tell you why he did…what he did.”

Cas flinched, but Dean’s pretty sure he was the only one who caught it. “I’ll do my best,” he answered, way too calmly. He then turned toward the door to enter the room that held Lucifer, but Dean’s hand shot out on its own accord and he caught Cas by the arm.

“Dean, what – mrrph!” Cas made a strangled noise as Dean pressed their lips together, shocked at his own briskness. He pulled away for a second to look Cas in the eyes, reading his emotions like an open book – _fear, anxiety, worry, anger, sadness, rage, fearfearfear –_ then he kissed him again, softer, his hands resting on Cas’s cheeks.

“You can do this,” Dean whispered. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“I know you will,” Cas answered, exhaling slowly, “I’ll be fine.”

“You will,” Dean nodded. He bit his lip. Three words were caught in his throat, threatening to come up like word vomit if he stood still any longer. _It’s not the right time,_ Dean thought. The words were too important to be blurted out so carelessly, even if Dean only wanted to reassure Cas that he would truly be okay – that Dean wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what happened next.

And so, Dean settled for, “I believe in you,” and Cas nodded gratefully before pulling away and stepping to the door again. He hesitated for a moment, but didn’t look back as he turned the knob and stepped into the interrogation room. The door closed firmly behind Cas, and for the third time in his life, Dean Winchester felt utterly, painstakingly helpless.

_You’re on your own now, angel._

~

When he heard the door close behind him, Castiel felt both furious and absolutely petrified. Furious because, not five yards away, sat Lucifer, eyes still closed, as calm as ever. All Cas wanted to do was punch his face in, but his body ignored every signal his brain sent telling it to _move._ Petrified because, well, the last time he and his brother were in the same vicinity, he’d tried to kill Castiel, and had almost succeeded. The time before that, Lucifer was getting kicked out of their home. It hadn’t been a pleasant sight.

Castiel was still willing his body to move when Lucifer, eyelids shut, decided to speak. 

“Brother,” was all he said, and the sound of his voice carried like broken glass through Castiel’s ears.

His fists clenched on impulse, and almost all of his fright suddenly swelled into fury. _Brother? Who does he think he is?_ “I have a name,” Castiel gritted out, and it’s then that Lucifer finally opened his eyes.

They were blue, like Castiel’s own – the only trait they shared – except lighter. He didn’t look tired or bored or the least bit guilty. He looked… _amused._ Pleased, almost, as if this was some charade, a silly game.

“That you do, Castiel,” Lucifer replied, “Or is it Cas now? I hear that’s what your boy-toy calls you.” His eyebrows were raised high as he tilted his head and folded his hands together on the steel table.   
“A pretty one, that Dean Winchester. Looks like you got lucky.”

“How do you –?”

“Oh, Castiel, don’t be dumb,” Lucifer chastised. He moved an arm up to rest his chin on the palm of his hand. The chains attached to the cuffs at his wrists rattled. Castiel guessed that they were about two feet long, which meant that his brother wouldn’t be able to get very far if he tried anything. “I have my sources. You have those things when you’re at the top of the food chain.”

“You’re just a drug dealer,” Castiel said, crossing his arms. He then remembered why he was in the room. “You’re a drug dealer who tried to kill me.”

Lucifer laughed, _laughed,_ like Castiel had just revealed the punch line of an ongoing joke. He shook his head, folding his hands once again on the table, chains clattering. “Do you have any idea how big The Garrison is? It’s an operation, a _worldwide_ operation _._ We have money, resources, connections – why do you think the feds can never find out who, exactly, is running things?”

“And what, are _you_ running things, at the top of said food chain?” Castiel asked, “Did you use your resources to track me down?”

“You think I’d be in this hole if I was running things? I’m a great catch, sure, and I _do_ have resources, but they’re not gonna take down a cartel with little old me.” He smiled and motioned toward the chair on the other side of the table with a nod. “You’ve been standing by the door this whole time. Come on in, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“I don’t plan on staying long,” Castiel replied curtly, but he took a few steps forward. _Time to cut to the chase._ “You tried to kill me. I want to know why, and I want to know who helped you do it.”

“Well well, Castiel,” Lucifer sang, “I don’t remember you ever being so authoritative. I’m impressed.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, mimicking Castiel’s posture. “Is that what happened to your arm? Someone hurt you?”

“ _You_ hurt me!” Castiel exclaimed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. This was _not_ the time to lose his cool. All he needed was a confession, and they’d have enough to hold him for attempted murder. After another deep breath, Castiel stepped forward and pulled out the chair he had been offered earlier. He sat down, arms length away from his side of the table. _Looks like we’re doing this the hard way._ He looked up at Lucifer, keeping his face as emotionless as possible as he asked, “Why did dad kick you out?”

Lucifer smirked, “He hasn’t told you?”

“We never got the whole story,” Castiel shrugged.

“He’s not even around, is he?”

The assumption took Castiel by surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“He doesn’t even know you’re hurt! His precious little boy – his pride and joy – is hurt, and where is he? ‘On business,’ always busy…too busy for his own son. Do you even know where he is?”

“Why do you care?” Castiel glared. He wouldn’t let Lucifer get into his head. “You want to try and kill him, too?”

Lucifer gasped, an open palm slapped against his chest in feigned shock. “Castiel, how could you suggest such a thing? I would never kill my own father!”

“But you’d kill your own brother?”

“Brothers kill each other all the time. At least, that’s what I hear. The news these days, it’s always so tragic – like Cain and Abel all over the place.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. This was not going well, and he was losing more and more of his resolve the longer he sat in the room. “They called me in because you requested it. I’m wasting my time and risking my sanity being here right now. Why did you want me here, Lucifer? What the hell do you want?”

“Someone’s impatient,” Lucifer snickered, tilting his head again. “I’ve missed you, brother. Is that not reason enough?”

And that’s when it clicked for Castiel. _He wants attention._ He was buying time, trying to get Castiel to stay as long as possible. Lucifer was never one to be on his own for very long. He and Gabriel had that in common. He knew he was going to be stuck in that room for hours, and though no one else could tell, Castiel knew that Lucifer was just _itching_ to get out of there. He was older, more mature, and better at hiding it, but it was there. He wasn’t going to admit to attempted murder, because that would mean it was over – he’d be thrown into jail after jail, forgotten. But he knew that he had valuable information, names of accomplices, and they wouldn’t put him away just yet. He was playing a game, like the sick bastard he was, and Castiel decided that he wouldn’t play along – he’d make up his own game.

Instead of responding to Lucifer’s query, Castiel simply got up and headed for the door. His hand was on the knob when, right on cue, Lucifer spoke up.

“You were always so sweet, Castiel,” Lucifer mocked, and Castiel rolled his eyes but kept his hand on the door. “Something has changed about you…you’re not so soft anymore.”

“Yeah, well, nine years and almost _dying_ will do that to a person,” Castiel growled, turning his head slightly to look at his brother. “Is that all?”

“It’s not that,” Lucifer continued, “I’m sure you’re dealing with _that_ just fine; you have a significant other to care for you now. It’s something else…something from long ago that’s made you this way.”

“What way?”

“Resilient,” Lucifer said proudly. “Your presence is much louder, you stand up taller, you aren’t so sheepish… someone must have whipped you into shape!”

The word ‘whipped’ made Castiel flinch, and of course, _of course,_ Lucifer caught it. He wasn’t sure how, but he was already certain that Lucifer _knew._ How his brother could still read him so well after all these years baffled Castiel; although, he _had_ always been the smartest out of all of them – smarter than even their father, at times.

Castiel’s certainties were confirmed when Lucifer chuckled a low, “Zachariah?”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he was out of the room before he could stop his legs. The door closed heavily behind him and he leaned against, his breaths coming in rasps. For a while he stood there, dazed, wondering how the _hell_ Lucifer could know about what Zachariah had done without being told a single thing.

“Cas? Baby, come on, say something. Castiel? Cas!”

“I’m okay!” Castiel blurted, blinking to find Dean standing in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders, eyes sharp with concern. “I’m…okay,” he repeated weakly; he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt, but he didn’t need Dean to worry any more than he already was.

“You sure?” Dean asked, resting a warm hand on Castiel’s neck and rubbing a thumb against his jaw. “It got intense in there. I wanted to go in, but the cop and the detective wouldn’t let me. Probably a good thing, too; I’d knock his teeth in. What a dick.”

Castiel blinked at Dean and then let his eyes wander to somewhere over his shoulder, where Sheriff Mills and Detective Turner were waiting patiently.

“Did you get anything?” he asked, remembering that the whole ordeal had been recorded.

The sheriff sighed, “Close, but nothing that would hold up in any court.”

“We’d love to have you come back in, when you’re ready,” Rufus offered, “but we can only hold him for another few days on his drug dealing charges. The guy’s a pro – we can’t find evidence of his involvement in The Garrison anywhere. You did get him to talk about it, though. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get him to say more,” Castiel apologized, but then Dean was squeezing his shoulder again.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Dean said softly, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “You did good, alright?”

“But –.”

Dean kissed him again, longer this time, before responding. “You did _good,_ okay? Don’t beat yourself up over this, or else I’ll be forced to kiss you every time you look even the least built guilty.”

That made Castiel smile slightly, which in turn caused Dean’s eyes to brighten. “Thank you,” he sighed, relieved. “Thank you for being here, and staying with me through this whole crazy mess.”

“That’s what soul mates are for, right?” Dean smiled and grabbed Castiel’s hand, pulling them away from the door. “Let’s get out of here, huh?”

~

Before leaving the police station, Dean and Cas had been asked to return within the next two days, at the most, if Cas wanted to take another crack at Lucifer before some lawyer inevitably showed up to defend his sorry ass.

“We’ll go after the exam on Thursday,” Dean suggested over dinner that evening. They were in the dining hall, per Castiel’s request. Dean didn’t mind at all, food was food and he was starved.  

Cas’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Dammit,” he muttered, “I totally forgot about that damn test. God, how am I supposed to catch up, study, _and_ pass when all I can think about is…is Lucifer?”

Dean squinted at his boyfriend from across the small table, “I thought you said you were okay?”

“I am, I’m just –.” Cas let his fork drop to his plate and covered his face with a hand, mumbling something Dean couldn’t quite hear. Dean put his own fork down and pushed his plate aside before reaching across the table to touch Cas’s healing hand.

“Hey, talk to me,” he urged, but Cas only sniffled a few times before Dean heard a quiet sob. _Fuck._ Dean was up and out of his chair before Cas could protest, pulling him into the nearest private restroom. He hoped no one would touch their stuff, but that wasn’t exactly a priority at the moment. Once they stepped into the restroom, Dean locked the door behind them and turned back to give Cas his full attention.

“Are you having another panic attack?” Dean asked.

“Just because I’m crying doesn’t mean I’m having a panic attack, Dean!” Castiel exclaimed, pulling away from him. “God, I just – my brother tried to kill me, and he doesn’t even care! I am angry, I am confused – how the hell did he figure out that Zachariah – and the way he sat there, that son of a bitch, like he was doing me a favor, like…!“

Cas paused, and then spun around to face Dean again. Dean hadn’t much moved, but now, on top of his concern for Castiel, he felt guilt. Misplaced, his mind told him, but he ignored it. Cas must have somehow gotten the memo, because he began apologizing repeatedly.

“I’m yelling at you like this is your fault, oh God, Dean…Dean I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I’m sorry –.”

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” Dean assured him, pulling Cas back into his arms. Cas tucked his left arm between their chests while his right slid around Dean’s neck. He buried his face somewhere above Dean’s clavicle, his tears quickly soaking through the thin fabric of Dean’s shirt.  

“It’s alright,” Dean repeated, rubbing the tense muscle along Cas’s back.

“How did he know?” Cas muttered against Dean’s shoulder.

“Know what, babe?”

“Zachariah.”

Dean pulled back far enough to look Cas in the face. “Your uncle Zachariah? Balthazar’s dad. I don’t think you ever told me the whole story there.”  

Cas sighed and shook his head, “I guess now would be an appropriate time to explain…all of that, wouldn’t it?”

“Only if you want to,” Dean said, moving his hands to rest on both sides of Castiel’s waist. He was careful not to apply pressure to where Cas’s stitched wounds were still healing. “I’m not going to force you if you don’t feel ready.” He didn’t want to push something that seemed to have such an intense effect on Castiel. He wanted to avoid triggering another panic attack at all costs.

Castiel’s lips curled into a smile, “Well, I’d rather not talk about this in a public bathroom. Can we…go home?”

 _Home._ The word rang loudly in Dean’s ears, and a warm feeling filled his chest despite the dull ache that sat there already. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to know about Cas’s past; there was nothing Dean could do to change whatever had happened. The more he knew, the more he would be reminded of how much he _couldn’t_ fix Cas. _But I need to know._

“Sure thing, blue eyes,” Dean whispered, pulling Cas in close – holding him, shielding him. “Let’s go home.” 


End file.
